This Year
by ash the airbender
Summary: A year in the life of Belle and Rumplestiltskin. Finally reunited after thirty years apart, they must figure out a way to fit together in this less than perfect world. (Rumbelle, Red Cricket, Mad Swan)
1. A Picnic in the Park

**This Year**

_**AU: This story complies with events up through Season 2 Epsiode 9, "Queen of Hearts," but may not remain consistent with anything that happens after that point in the show. Apologies for any **_**_discrepancies there._**

_A/N: A year in the life of Belle and Rumplestiltskin. First, Rumplestiltskin is alarmed by the effect Belle has on him. Does Belle realize what she's doing to him? All signs point to yes._

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**Spring**

**1: A Picnic in the Park**

XXX

**_31 March_**

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She was inordinately happy, and he couldn't quite figure out why.

Not that Rumplestiltskin didn't _like_ to see Belle happy. On the contrary, he actively sought to bring out that lovely smile whenever he could, and he was practically a slave to that laugh, tinkling like bells, how appropriate. He went out of his way to bring his beautiful Belle joy.

Of course, when she _was_ happy, he always made a point of knowing _why_ she was happy, so he could know _what_ made her happy and use the information to make her happy again, and again, as many times as possible.

But today, he couldn't figure out why she seemed to have attained such a lofty level of bliss abruptly and for no discernible reason.

Belle's inexplicable mood became clear to Rumplestiltskin the moment she came knocking at his door that afternoon. Ever since she hired an assistant librarian, Belle had been able to take more time off for her lunches with Rumplestiltskin.

Ella – formerly Ashley Boyd – had come to Rumplestiltskin in need of some extra cash to support her infant Alexandra with her financially struggling husband, Thomas. Unwilling to see the poor girl in debt to Storybrooke's resident loan shark, Belle instead offered the girl a job as her assistant. Ella was able to bring Alexandra to work every day and read picture books from the children's section to her when she wasn't busy, and overall she enjoyed it very much.

Sometimes Rumplestiltskin wondered how someone so kind and generous as Belle ever ended up with a bitter old man like him.

On afternoons such as that one, Belle and Rumplestiltskin usually ate lunch together, sometimes at his house, usually at Granny's, despite the old woman's intense dislike of the man. That day, however, it seemed Belle had another thing planned.

Belle looked stunning, as she always did. Her chocolatey curls were pulled away from her face with a length of yellow ribbon, and she wore a blue sundress with a cardigan the color of sunshine. The day was unseasonably warm for March in Maine, and Belle seemed to be making the most of the rare opportunity to dress lightly, even wearing a pair of strappy sandals on her dainty feet.

After taking in her radiant beauty (though he could surely stand and admire her for several more hours, given the chance), Rumplestiltskin noted what Belle had in her hands. In one arm, she carried a red-and-white checked blanket, and she had a basket swinging back and forth, dangling from the crook of her elbow.

"I thought we might go on a picnic," she said brightly, stepping briefly into his house and taking his hand in hers, "And take advantage of such a lovely day."

Oh, he could think of a few lovely things to take advantage of, if only he were less of an honorable man.

(Who would have ever guessed Rumplestiltskin would one day be describing himself as honorable?)

"Sounds perfect," he said, smiling genuinely and repressing some of his more indecent inclinations. He didn't often smile, to be honest, but somehow Belle always managed to bring it out of him. How special she was.

Side by side, two of them made their way down the street towards the park, making idle chatter the whole way.

"Yesterday evening Ella invited me and the other girls over to her and Sean's apartment for a girls' night tonight," Belle said with visible excitement. Rumplestiltskin was glad for her. From what he knew of her life as a princess, she'd never had many friends, preferring the company of books and fantasy to the gossipy, backstabbing girls and, later, young ladies of court. And of course, associating herself with Mr. Gold was hardly the way to make friends in Storybrooke, so the fact that Ella was willing to include Belle in her social plans was practically groundbreaking.

"I hope you have a very nice time," Rumplestiltskin said neutrally, indeed hoping that she would. "Do we know anyone else who will be attending?"

"Red, Snow, and possibly Emma," Belle answered, laying out the checkered blanket under the shade of a large oak tree in the park. A field of grass, brownish and dry from the long, cold winter, grew in patches all around them. It wasn't the nicest scenic locale, but at least the wind wasn't blowing. Rumplestiltskin slowly lowered himself down onto the ground, careful to mind his knee. When he finally got settled, he stretched his leg out in front of him and leaned back against the sturdy tree trunk, wincing.

There were many aspects of his old, Dark One self that Rumplestiltskin was glad to be rid of, but he had to admit that hardly a day went by that he didn't wish he could be rid of this inconvenient limp, jump and run and dance around like the madman he used to be. And nothing made him feel more like an old, useless cripple than watching Belle kick off her shoes and spin around in circles beneath the cloudless blue sky, throwing her arms out to soak on the sun's gentle warmth, her eyelids fluttering shut.

She sighed contentedly, and all of Rumplestiltskin's bitterness was chased away by that enticing smile. "I love this," she said with perfect contentment as she turned back to Rumplestiltskin, noticing his pleasant smile and returning it. She set the picnic basket between them and opened it to reveal sandwiches and fresh berries with cream. She got to work setting everything out, the plastic forks and knives, the bowls of berries, the Tupperware containers. Watching her, Rumplestiltskin found he couldn't resist.

Like a perfect gentleman, Rumplestiltskin took Belle's hand, pressing his lips to it lightly. Belle giggled delightedly at the gesture. "I love _you_," he said softly, his voice low and thick. Belle drew a breath, her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes twinkling. Rumplestiltskin rarely confessed his devotion with so little provocation.

Belle's expression of surprise transformed into a wide grin, and she crouched down and kissed Rumplestiltskin full on the mouth, just a brief smack of lips before pulling away and beaming brighter than the sun.

"I knew you'd love the idea of a picnic," she said with a sense of triumph. Was it possible that she drew just as much joy out of making him happy as he did from making her happy? "You've been cooped up in your shop and your study all winter," she complained, taking a seat beside Rumplestiltskin, leaning forward and thoughtlessly placing her hand on his thigh. Rumplestiltskin's heart skipped a beat. "And it's such a nice day; I just couldn't stand to see it wasted."

"It is nice to get out," Rumplestiltskin admitted. He actually quite enjoyed his time spent alone in his study, but not nearly so much as he enjoyed his lunches with Belle. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Although I suspect it isn't the location so much as the company."

Belle's cheeks tinged pink with a blush. She removed two sandwiches from the basket, one for each of them, and began to undo the Saran Wrap around her own and giving the other to him. "Rumplestiltskin," she said slyly, looking up at the man from beneath her lashes, "I almost don't believe it, but I think you've gone soft."

Rumplestiltskin slid his shoes off his feet and nudged her bare foot with his own sock-clad one. "Only for you, darling," he said for only her to hear. Belle's blush deepened and she threaded her fingers into the slots between his. She inspected the sandwich in her hand with apparent fascination.

After a long pause – and after consuming in silence the entirety of his sandwich – Rumplestiltskin returned his attention to Belle, who had in turn finished off her own sandwich and was plucking blueberries from a ceramic bowl. A chilly breeze teased her hair and the fabric of her sundress, and she shivered slightly, leaning back against the tree and snuggling closer to Rumplestiltskin. She rested her head on his shoulder, nestling against his neck. Rumplestiltskin looked down at her fondly, feeling as if his heart had sprouted wings that were beating rapidly against his ribcage. The effect Belle had on him was fascinating, unprecedented, alarming… wonderful.

"I have to ask," he said boldly, watching from a distance as the Hatter's girl, eleven-year-old Grace, lay in the grass, nose-to-nose with a fuzzy white rabbit. _What a peculiar child,_ he thought. _I expect she gets it from her father._ Although, if Rumplestiltskin remembered correctly, the mother – What was her name? Alice? – was hardly renowned for her sanity in the old world either, when she was alive. "You've been strangely happy today. Is there any particular reason?"

"Oh," said Belle with a coy smile, nestling against his side, gazing up with doe eyes, and purposefully drawing out her words to string him along, that minx, "I don't know. See if you can guess."

Never one to turn down a challenge, Rumplestiltskin pursed his lips in thought, making a show of stroking his chin and screwing up his eyebrows in a picturesque display of contemplation. Belle giggled behind her hand at the demonstration.

Rumplestiltskin turned to face her, only to realize how close they were; their noses almost touched. His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat… or perhaps it had simply stopped beating. It seemed entirely possible. No, there it was, pounding so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Why did she have to be so beautiful?

Of course, it wasn't just her beauty. There were plenty of attractive women in Storybrooke, none of whom Rumplestiltskin would so give so much as a second glance. It was just Belle. Because of who she was, her personality, her heart, her kindness, her… her. And Rumplestiltskin wished he could believe it was just her personality that was the reason for his intense attraction, but he knew that wasn't entirely true. He longed for her in a way that was entirely inappropriate for someone his age.

It was unfortunate, especially considering ever since their arguments regarding his perhaps irresponsible release of magic into Storybrooke, Rumplestiltskin and Belle had been taking things slow. First it was casual outings, then they started having dinner at his house, and lately they'd been kissing more often. But things were still very sweet, chaste, and low-key. He was courting her, for lack of a better word, in an entirely old-fashioned way.

With Belle so close like this, however, he sometimes had a hard time remembering himself.

Rumplestiltskin jolted back almost immediately, cleared his throat, and averted his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, deeply concerned about the turn his thoughts were taking. Once he'd managed to collect himself, he ventured his first guess as to the reason for Belle's behavior. "It's your birthday," he tried, turning back to face her and flashing his trademark smirk.

Unsurprisingly, Belle shook her head. "Nope, that's not it," she said smugly. "Not even close. My birthday is December 27. Try again."

December 27. Easy enough to remember, two days after Christmas. It would, however, entail quite a lot of gift-buying in a short time span. And he _would_ be buying gifts; he intended to lavish Belle in presents every opportunity he got. She deserved to know how special she was, how much she meant to him.

"Alright…" He tried to think what else could possibly be so important. What was the date? "Well, it's warm... Could it be you're happy about the start of spring?" he guessed. He knew Belle's favorite season was winter, though, so why would she be so excited for winter to end and spring to begin?

"That's exactly right!" Belle nevertheless exclaimed, gesturing grandly to the thawing atmosphere. "I just love changing seasons," she explained. "The first flowers of spring, the first days off of summer, the first leaves of fall, and the first snow of winter." She beamed. "_Especially_ the first snow of winter." She gave Rumplestiltskin's hand a squeeze, finishing off the last of the blueberries.

They sat in silence a while, Belle gazing out over the rest of the park, to where Grace was chasing her white rabbit into the trees and Hansel and Gretel were mock-shooting at each other with imaginary pistols. Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin enjoyed an even lovelier sight as he examined the profile of Belle's pretty face: the slope of her nose, the arch of her forehead, the length of her neck… Mesmerizing, he thought.

Gods, he _was_ going soft. Funny thing was, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

Several slow seconds ticked by.

"I love it when you look at me like that," Belle said abruptly, turning to meet Rumplestiltskin's surprised gaze. He hadn't expected her to notice his admiration. Thankfully she seemed to find it endearing instead of unnerving. "The look in her eyes…" Her aqua eyes met his, searching, and her tongue darted out to wet her soft pink lips.

"What, love?" he prompted affectionately, tilting her chin up with his hand so they were practically nose-to-nose.

Belle's eyelids fluttered, and so did Rumplestiltskin's heart. His eyes raked over every intricately memorized contour of her face, the flecks of color in her sea-blue irises. Before Rumplestiltskin even registered what was about to happen, as he was still drinking in her radiant beauty, Belle inched her body closer to his, inhaled a sharp intake of breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and took the plunge.

The kiss was perfect. Her small hand snaked behind his neck, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. He sighed into her mouth, his hands going to her shoulders and drawing her near. Her lips were soft, her kiss gentle, her hands insistently keeping him rooted to her.

Belle hummed softly, tilting deeper into the kiss and opening her mouth beneath his. Rumplestiltskin eagerly darted his tongue between her teeth, and Belle grinned against his mouth. Her hand slipped down from his neck to his shoulder, and then down to his chest, sliding down his torso until he jerked away as if burned.

"I'm sorry," he instantly apologized. Belle laughed.

"Goodness, Rumplestiltskin, you're acting very odd today," she teased. She looked as if she wanted to say something more, but instead, she gave a halfhearted smile and straightened his collar before getting to her feet and dusting off her knees. She gathered up the trash, bowls, and Tupperware containers in the picnic basket and folded up the blanket as Rumplestiltskin got slowly to his feet, leaning on the tree for support. As always, Belle was careful to respectfully avert her eyes. Rumplestiltskin's dignity was very important to him, and he knew Belle hated to wound his pride (until those not-infrequent moments when his ego got too large for him to manage, in which cases she never hesitated to kick him down a notch).

"I should be getting back," she said reluctantly once they'd collected themselves. "It's not fair to leave Ella alone with the library for so long." Rumplestiltskin nodded silently, shaken up from what had just passed between them. He was hardly acting a gentleman by shoving his tongue down Belle's throat; that was behavior more befitting a hormone-crazed adolescent boy, which was something he had not been in over a century.

The pair walked as far as the library together before Rumplestiltskin had to get back to the store. Belle gave him a kiss on the cheek, her fingers brushing his elbow and lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Belle said. She opened the door to the library, but before she disappeared inside, she turned back, seeming to remember something. "Oh, by the way, did you hear about what the town's doing tomorrow?"

"I make a point of avoiding the rest of the general population of Storybrooke," he replied drily. "The ones that aren't my mortal enemies all hate me because they owe me money. That's the way it works when you're the most powerful man in town."

Belle rolled her eyes. "You're full of it," she scolded. "Anyways, tomorrow's April Fool's Day, and Jefferson, I've heard, had the idea for the whole town to celebrate it the way we used to in the old world, with the Day of Fools. Do you remember it? Topsy Turvy Day!"

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. "With everyone acting exactly the opposite as they normally would? Yes, of course I remember it. I remember it being patently ridiculous."

"Oh, come on," Belle said, smacking his shoulder playfully as she leaned against the doorframe. "The old you would've been the king of Topsy Turvy Day. You used to be all fun and mischievous. I miss that part of you."

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean the part of me that forced you to be my housekeeper and then kicked you out for loving me? Right, I can see what you would miss about him," he said with such sarcasm it was practically dripping from his voice. Belle sighed.

"I just mean you're such a different person from who you were then," she explained. "In a lot of ways you've changed for the better. But… I don't know. It might be nice to see the old you, just for one day."

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea," he told her after a brief moment of deliberation. Belle pouted.

"Fine," she said. She paused a moment, and then her face brightened. "This afternoon was fun," she added, giving Rumplestiltskin… was that… a wink? His eyes widened slightly. "We should do that more often."

He would have thought she meant the picnic, but the flirtatious wave she gave as she closed the door behind her suggested otherwise.

His dreams that night were beyond inappropriate.


	2. Day of Fools

**This Year**

_A/N: Rumplestiltskin's attempts to prove Belle wrong ultimately fail. If only failure were always this wonderful._

XXX

**Spring**

**2: Day of Fools**

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**_1 April_**

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The Day of Fools was a time-honored tradition in the old world. Rumplestiltskin, apparently, remembered it as a day of bright, clashing colors and parades through town, of everyone making merry and drinking their weight in liquor by the time the day was done. He'd never participated in the merriment; he was always too busy raising Bae, and later, pacing the lonely halls of the Dark Castle and brooding, occasionally stepping outside to make someone else's life miserable.

But Belle remembered the day with fondness, as one when she could act out and cast aside her prim and proper princess-like behavior, watch the parades from her father's balcony and forget all about the tension that was brewing on the eastern borders, where the ogres pillaged their land. And this year, she was in stalwart support of Jefferson's mad idea to hold an old world-style celebration in place of this world's tendency to overlook April Fool's Day. After all they'd been through, the mad Hatter had argued, the citizens of Storybrooke deserved a day to act like the lunatics half of them were.

Everyone in Storybrooke had made the near-unanimous decision to take the day off work and celebrate, leaving Rumplestiltskin with no excuse to shut himself in his shop all day and ignore the world. Not to mention, even if he tried, Belle would be coming by to force him to be sociable, though he had expressed adamant refusal to attend the party Pinocchio and Red had organized in the old empty firehouse.

Of course, Belle was no dimwit. She knew there was little chance of Rumplestiltskin participating in the brightness and laughter of it all. Her taunts yesterday that he'd forgotten his fun, mischievous side had fallen on deaf ears; she should have known better than to think a man so set in his ways would give into such a transparent attempt at peer pressure.

At least, that's what she'd assumed.

The morning of the Day of Fools, she woke up, got dressed in her most colorful ensemble, even going so far as to add a touch of the bright red lipstick Red had loaned her the night before at Ella's place. She then unplugged her brand-new mobile phone. It was an impromptu gift from Rumplestiltskin – "So I can always reach you," he said – although, according to Ella, he really went above and beyond by buying her the new iPhone. Meanwhile, half the time Belle truly had no idea how to use the thing, and the other half the time Rumplestiltskin was trying to explain to her the concept of "3G."

She sent Rumplestiltskin a quick text, one of the few things she knew how to do:

"_Are you free today? Of course you are. I'm coming by in 5 minutes; be ready to leave. –B_"

Rumplestiltskin's answer came while Belle was making herself a breakfast of French toast:

"_Not at home. Come downstairs. –R_"

Belle crinkled her brow. He was downstairs… in the library? She tapped out a reply:

"_What are you doing there? And how did you get in? –B_"

"_Who was it who gave you the key to the library in the first place? Oh, right. That would be me. You coming or not? I don't have all day. –R_"

What an insufferable prat.

"_Yes, give me a minute to eat. Why are you even up so early? You hate mornings. –B_"

While she was waiting for his next response, Belle washed down her toast with a long swig of orange juice and donned a light jacket to fend off the cool spring breeze. Rumplestiltskin's reply did not come until she was halfway down the stairs:

"_I do not hate mornings. I just don't love them nearly so much as you. –R_"

Belle rolled her eyes, pocketed her phone, and entered the library proper, eyes skimming the vicinity for Rumplestiltskin only to find he was nowhere in sight.

"Rumplestiltskin?" she called loudly. "Are you messing with me? Be warned, I'm carrying a hardback copy of _Little House on the Prairie_ and I'm not afraid to use it!"

No answer. She screwed up her nose in confusion a moment, hands on her hips and wondering what on earth the man was up to, when she spotted it: a slip of bright yellow paper on the librarian's desk. Belle plucked the post-it note off her desk and read, in Rumplestiltskin's long, slanted handwriting:

"_On second thought, I've been meaning to get back to the town's second most notorious reader on the matter of a certain sequel. You said you wanted mischief? Catch me if you can, dearie._"

Belle crumpled up the note in her hand. A scavenger hunt. That bastard. She _had_ said she wanted mischief, though, and this had the potential to be sort of fun.

Sighing, she decided she would keep an optimistic attitude and hope Rumplestiltskin didn't lead her on too much of a chase (though, knowing him, and knowing that he was not the sort to do anything by halves, she would be running after him for the better part of the day). She slung her purse over her shoulder, locked up the library, and set off to find "the town's second most notorious reader," whom everyone knew was none other than Henry Mills.

Desiring to avoid Regina if at all possible, Belle first checked the Sheriff's office, and was delighted to find Henry sitting on his mother's desk, legs swinging beneath him, paging through several large laminated sheets of paper. Belle approached him confidently; Henry was always nice to her, despite her association with Rumplestiltskin.

"Hello Henry," she said sweetly, peering at the pages in his hand to find they were illustrations not unlike the ones in the boy's infamous storybook. "What are those?"

Henry gave Belle and wide grin. "Oh, August – I mean, Pinocchio," he corrected immediately, "Is helping me write a sequel to my storybook. I want to tell the stories of what has happened since where the first book left off, after everyone got sent here. These are the illustrations." He held them up, colorful depictions of everything that came to pass in Storybrooke since Emma's arrival.

"That's a wonderful idea," Belle said genuinely, now understanding what Rumplestiltskin had been referring to in his note.

"Thanks," Henry said. "Is there anything I can do for you, though?"

"Oh, yes, actually, I was wondering if you've seen Rumplestiltskin – Mr. Gold – at all today?"

"I did," Henry said, biting back a grin. "He… he left this, and said to give it to you." The eleven-year-old produced another golden sticky note, attached to an illustration of Granny's diner. Belle pursed her lips.

"The note's blank," she observed, flipping it over to the other side, to no avail.

"I think," Henry said, giggling, "The clue's in the picture." Realization dawned on Belle.

"Ohhh," she said. Granny's diner; that's where she'd find the next clue. "Clever boy. By the way," she added as an afterthought, fishing around in her purse and withdrawing a hardcover book from the library, "I brought you the next James Dashner novel; I was thinking you'd probably finished the first by now."

"Thanks!" Henry exclaimed, taking it from her eagerly. He looked up again as Belle left. "Good luck!"

Granny's diner was closed and Red was off-duty, of course, but she greeted Belle warmly and let her in through the front door. Belle handed over the red lipstick she'd borrowed and asked after Rumplestiltskin.

"Oh yeah," Red said with a cheeky grin. "He was here alright. Left you this." She handed Belle another golden note, which Belle snatched up and read earnestly.

"_Should be lunchtime. Take a break, then find Miss Lucas's most valued customer._"

Belle heaved a longsuffering sigh. "This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. Red was still watching her with an overjoyed expression, bouncing over to the counter and pouring tea.

"Two sugars, right?" the waitress asked. Belle nodded.

"Yes, please," she said, grateful to take a seat beside Red as she sipped at her tea. Red fetched a Coke for herself and took a seat beside the exasperated librarian.

"So," Red said, tongue between her teeth as she gave Belle a girlish grin, "Scavenger hunt, eh?"

Belle rolled her eyes. "It's not nearly so fun as you might think," she said. "I mean, it would be, if I knew he wasn't just doing it to prove a point." Red's face fell, but only slightly.

"What point would that be?" she asked. "That you're about as much fun as he is, which is to say, not at all?" Belle knew Red was only teasing, but she glared at her all the same.

"Yesterday I may have told him that I missed how he used to be all fun and mischievous," Belle explained, "And now I think he's trying to prove that the old him was an insufferable bastard who only succeeded in driving everyone around him crazy."

"And is it working?" Red asked.

"I don't know," Belle admitted. "I mean, it's nice that he's having a little fun with this, but I wish I could just _see_ him." She sighed. "I guess the only way to do that, though, is to find out who your 'most valued customer' is."

Red's grin returned. "Oh, well I can't divulge that sort of information to just _anyone_," she said teasingly. "You'll have to first answer a question for _me_."

Belle pursed her lips, considering Red's offer. "What sort of question?"

"Oh, I don't know," Red said airily, waving her hand. "How about… what are things like between you and Gold? How is your… relationship?" She arched her eyebrows suggestively and smirked. Belle glared daggers.

"That's hardly a fair question," she protested, but Red simply shrugged.

"Take it or leave it," the waitress said infuriatingly. Belle sighed through her teeth.

"Fine." She paused. "But you can't tell _anyone_."

"That was never part of the deal!" Red sang. "Ooh, I'm starting to see why Rumplestiltskin loves this whole deal-making thing. It's fun! But anyways, stop stalling and just tell me already!"

"There isn't much to tell," Belle admitted. "We go out for lunch a lot. On weekends he has me over for dinner. He's a pretty good cook. And he's actually very musically talented. He plays the piano, I know, and I've seen a cello lying around his house so I suspect he plays that as well. So, I've learned a lot about him, you could say. But… we don't have much of a, er, _physical_ relationship."

Red pouted. "That's no fun," she complained.

"Trust me, I know. But I've been working on changing that. We'll get there. Anyways, now _you_ owe _me_ an answer. Who's your most valued customer?"

A blush crept up Red's cheeks until they practically matched her name. She muttered something very quickly that Belle didn't catch.

"Sorry, what was that?" Belle asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. So Rumplestiltskin was referring to _that_ kind of "valued customer."

Red raised her voice, but only slightly: "Archie. That is, er, Archie Hopper."

Belle laughed, eyes wide. "Seriously?" Red crossed her arms defensively.

"You are in _no_ position to judge," Red said. "Tell me again, _how_ much of an age difference is there between you and Gold?" Belle shook her head.

"No, it's not that, it's just… I never would've pegged him as the sort you'd fall for! Archie Hopper, as in Jiminy Cricket, the conscience? No offense, but your moral compass doesn't always point north, if you know what I mean."

Red scowled. "I don't find you funny."

"Sorry, sorry," Belle said, her laughter subsiding. She set aside her teacup and got to her feet. "Thanks for all your help. Looks like I'm off to see the Cricket."

Her spirits buoyed up by the laugh she'd had at the diner, Belle was able to make it through the rest of the scavenger hunt – which took the better part of an hour to get through – without much complaint. She was led from Dr. Hopper's office to the oak tree in the park to the front yard of Rumplestiltskin's ridiculous pink house, and several more places, when she finally found the final note:

"_Alright, I've had my fun. Ironically, you'll find me back where you first started. See you in a minute._"

Belle burst into the library moments later, having sprinted all the way there, and surely enough found Rumplestiltskin standing in the center of the room, leaning against his cane and grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Belle ran up to him and flung her arms around him, causing him to lose balance and grab the side of a bookshelf for support.

"Goodness, Belle, it's only been a couple hours," he said cheekily. "You can't have been missing me that much."

Belle released him and slapped his arm. "You bastard, you led me on a chase across town just to prove a point!" Rumplestiltskin feigned innocence.

"Why, that's an absurd accusation, darling," he protested, arms lingering around her waist. "I would never do such a thing." He grinned, doing an impressive interpretation of the Cheshire cat. "I just wanted to have a little fun." His hand slid down her back until it came to rest on her bottom. Belle gaped at him.

"Rum!" she exclaimed, scandalized, though she made no move to shove him off. "That's hardly appropriate." Her eyes gleamed, probably giving her away, but no matter. She would play his game; it is, after all, what she'd said she wanted.

"Mm," he said noncommittally, brushing off her remarks and leaning his chin on her head so that her face was nestled against his neck. She let her eyes flutter shut and let out a deep, relaxed breath. Rumplestiltskin's hands found her hips and pulled her near; he leaned back against the bookshelf behind him and stared at a point behind her head.

"I was wondering," he began, "If you might like to join me this evening for dinner and a movie."

"I thought everywhere was closed for the holiday," Belle said. "Doesn't that include the theater?"

Rumplestiltskin then looked down to meet her gaze, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I meant at my house."

Belle's stomach fluttered; she felt herself nod. "Sure," she breathed, delighted at the turn events were taking. If this was Rumplestiltskin's idea of mischief – and what a grand idea of mischief it was – then she almost wished it could be Topsy Turvy Day every day.

When they reached Rumplestiltskin's house – still pink, still ridiculous – Belle asked what they were going to watch that day. It turned out Rumplestiltskin was quite the connoisseur of quality cinematography, and since Belle's release from the hospital he had been determined to catch her up on all that she'd been missing.

"A comedy, I think, would be appropriate for today," he said, casting a grin over his shoulder as he perused his vast collection of DVDs. He gave her a choice, and she picked the movie that looked the most entertaining. Rumplestiltskin slid it into the DVD player and they got settled on his brown leather sofa with popcorn in their laps and a blanket draped over the both of them. Belle snuggled into his chest and sighed.

Turned out Belle had chosen well; by the time the credits rolled, she and Rumplestiltskin had spent the greater majority of the past two hours doubled over in laughter, collapsing on top of one another and spilling popcorn between the cushions. Belle wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

"That was wonderful," she said as they cleaned up and took their bowls into the kitchen. Rumplestiltskin had leftovers from their last dinner together that he began to heat up, and they joined each other back on the couch once their dinner was ready. "I always thought you had more of a dark sense of humor, but that was really, truly _funny_."

"So you'll admit that I'm not so boring now as you thought I was?" Rumplestiltskin said slyly. Belle raised her eyebrows.

"Wait," she said, after swallowing a mouthful of lasagna. "I thought the scavenger hunt was meant to prove that the old you was completely insufferable and would only drive me crazy, but all this time you were legitimately trying to show me that you could actually be fun?" Rumplestiltskin chuckled.

"Oh, no, love, I was definitely trying to prove you wrong," he admitted. "But when that failed, I decided I may as well settle for being fun." He kissed her nose, washing down his dinner with a glass of wine. Belle cleaned her plate as well, and turned back to Rumplestiltskin.

"You, sir, are indeed completely intolerable," she said.

"Aha, so I was right?" he said with a gleaming grin.

"Oh, no," Belle corrected. "You didn't let me finish." He was leaning back against the arm of the sofa, facing her, so she angled herself to face him and leaned in close, her hands on either side of him. "You _are_ intolerable," she repeated, "_But_ I love you anyways."

He smiled sincerely. "You know I love you too, Belle," he said softly. They shared a brief moment of sweetness, gazing into each other's eyes, before Belle broke it off and leaned back again, glancing back in his direction with a glimmer in her eyes.

"And besides," she added, "Your good points definitely outweigh your bad ones."

"Good points?" he prompted, evidently intrigued. Belle once again observed him out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, yes," she said with mock-seriousness. "For one, you're well read. I could never be with someone who doesn't know his Shakespeare. You're intelligent, cunning, a good cook. You've always got interesting stories to tell. And your looks…" She trailed off meaningfully, casting her gaze slowly up and down his body as he stared at her expectantly. "I suppose those are just an added bonus."

Rumplestiltskin crept up close to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and turning her to face him once more. "Coming from the most beautiful girl in town, that's quite the compliment," he said, accent thickening. Belle involuntarily wet her lips, eyelids fluttering slightly.

"You know I've always found you quite handsome," she murmured under her breath, voice low and sultry. He smirked.

"Now why do I find that hard to believe?" he said sardonically.

"Mm, low self-esteem?" Belle teased.

"Yeah, that'll be it." Their lips finally met, and Belle practically melted into a pool of buttery pleasure on his couch.


	3. Painting Roses Red

**This Year**

_A/N: All birthdays in this fic are the birthdays of the actors who portray the characters. Jennifer Morrison's is 12 April, Robert Carlyle's is 14 April, Emilie de Ravin's is 27 December. Made up a number for Rumplestiltskin's age; I'm assuming he lived as the immortal Dark One for quite some time, considering he knew both Cora and Regina in their youth._

XXX

**Spring**

**3: Painting Roses Red**

XXX

**_12 April_**

XXX

"Oh, Papa, definitely not so much pink. Have you _met_ the Sheriff?"

Belle was assisting her father as he helped set up for Emma Swan's birthday party. It was to be a town-wide event, and a surprise, which proved to be a great deal more difficulty than it was worth.

Snow and Charming were orchestrating the affair, and everyone else in town had pitched in to make this the best night of Emma's life. But the birthday girl was to arrive in less than an hour, and there was still much left to do.

Jefferson had generously offered his house for the event, seeing as it was the largest residential building in Storybrooke, indeed, a veritable mansion. Snow was overseeing the entire setup, giving orders and acting in general more queenly than anyone had ever seen her, which, when it came to the dwarves, was saying something. Granny and Red provided the refreshments, Astrid headed the decorations committee, Henry and Pinocchio were charged with keeping Emma busy, and Maurice and Belle were in charge of flowers.

A week earlier, when Snow first announced her intentions to hold a grand surprise party for Emma's thank-goodness-I'm-still-not-thirty-yet birthday, the queen had, of course, asked Maurice, the owner of the Game of Thorns flower shop, to provide the flower arrangements for the event. Seeing an opportunity to spend some time with his daughter in hopes of possibly redeeming himself for his past misdoings, Maurice had invited Belle to assist him.

Despite Rumplestiltskin's fervent misgivings and protestations regarding what was surely a disaster waiting to happen, Belle decided to give her father a chance and accepted the invitation. After several days of moping about, Rumplestiltskin accepted that he was not going to be listened to on the matter and subsequently resolved to accompany Belle to the Hatter's house… to ensure her safety, of course.

Because he could have no other possible motive in attending such a ridiculous social function.

So here he was, watching Belle have a minor freak-out at the girlish roses her father had brought over from the shop. It was difficult for Rumplestiltskin to keep from laughing as Belle flitted about like a distressed butterfly from flower to flower.

"White roses, Papa? Really?" Belle sighed heavily. "Do you at least have any red?"

Maurice had the discretion to look chastised as he shook his head. Belle buried her face in her hands, and Rumplestiltskin silently wondered how this was such a big deal. Emma would hardly notice the floral arrangements; in fact, better not to have any flowers at all. Jefferson came up beside him, leaning back and rubbing his chin, one eyebrow raised in scrutiny of the minor catastrophe. After seeming to give the issue much thought, Jefferson spoke up, gesturing to the bouquets of white roses with one hand.

"We could always paint the roses red," he suggested. Three pairs of eyes turned to him in unison. Belle regarded him, mouth slightly agape.

"Are you mad?" she asked, voice strained pent-up aggravation as she stood with her hands clenched into fists and one foot tapping impatiently. Clearly Belle did not work well under pressure. Rumplestiltskin filed that useful bit of information away for future reference.

Jefferson didn't bother to respond to Belle's query; everyone already knew the answer. Of course he was mad.

"It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion," the Hatter muttered under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest as Belle returned her attention to more important things (apparently flowers were high on her list of priorities, which was a female nuance that Rumplestiltskin was certain he would never understand). Rumplestiltskin chuckled humorlessly.

"At this point, a little red paint might be just what we need," he agreed as the pair of them watched Belle fussing with the arrangements and Astrid directing the hanging of the streamers, "If only to get this whole mess over with." Rumplestiltskin paused. He turned, struck with a sudden realization and regarding Jefferson with a newfound appreciation.

"I don't believe I ever thanked you," he said abruptly, thinking back on the day the curse was broken, the whirlwind of events that was set in motion on that fateful day. Jefferson turned to Rumplestiltskin with an expression of mild surprise.

"Thanked me?" he repeated.

By way of an answer, Rumplestiltskin turned his gaze pointedly to Belle, who was presently running her hands through her hair in distress. She placed her hands on her knees, leaning forward and sighing through her nose. Jefferson followed Rumplestiltskin's gaze and realization dawned in his eyes.

"Ah," the Hatter said, nodding slowly. "That. What you must understand is that my intentions were entirely selfish," he clarified, nodding towards his daughter, Grace, who was darting about between the arms and legs of bustling party-planners in pursuit of an oddly colored cat. Jefferson glanced askance at Rumplestiltskin. "You of all people must understand the lengths to which a father will go to be reunited with his only child."

Rumplestiltskin squinted at the Hatter, who had turned to regard the unfolding mayhem with passive indifference. "You seem to know an awful lot about my life for a supposedly neutral party."

The Hatter tilted his head, conceding Rumplestiltskin's point. "I know an awful lot about an awful lot of things for a supposedly neutral party." He smirked. "I make a habit of knowing things. I suppose that's something we have in common."

At that, he finally turned, meeting Rumplestiltskin's eyes with startling lucidity for a notorious madman. "Besides, I owed you one. Now we're even."

He wandered off without another word.

Still puzzling over his odd encounter with the Hatter, Rumplestiltskin observed with only mild interest as Charming faced a miniature dilemma of his own.

In all the party planning, naturally Charming had the most important position of all: keeping Snow from having a mental breakdown.

It was no simple task; Rumplestiltskin had never seen the queen so on edge. She was pacing, snapping orders and criticisms, nearly sending Astrid into tears on more than one occasion. All the while Charming was at her side, murmuring constant reassurances, his hands on her arms and shoulders, all in a futile attempt to keep the impending storm at bay.

When at last the efforts grew too great even for the valiant pauper-turned-prince-turned-king, Charming stalked over to the farthest corner of the room, where Rumplestiltskin happened also to be standing. The king was clearly fuming; if he were a character in a cartoon, there would be an ominous gray storm cloud trailing after him, occasionally sparking out jagged jolts of lightning.

Despite Charming's close proximity, Rumplestiltskin tried his utmost to continue ignoring the king, in hopes of avoiding any sort of conversation. Alas, his efforts were for naught.

"I don't even know why I try," Charming muttered, more to himself than to Rumplestiltskin, though it was clear he half-wished to be overheard. "No matter what I say, Snow is just going to do whatever she wants. I don't know why I bother!"

Begrudgingly accepting the mantle of conversation, Rumplestiltskin decided to humor the whining royal. "I don't know why you bother either," he said flatly, his attention split between the grumpy king and his distressed beauty on the other end of the room, fretting about forsythias. He spared Charming a condescending glance. "Tell me, Your Highness," he said reproachfully, "At what point did you realize this endeavor may be more trouble than it's worth?"

Charming glared at Rumplestiltskin through his peripheral vision. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but doing things for people you love is always worth it," he said. Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, gesturing quite blatantly to Belle.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

"Oh, that's right," Charming said. "I forgot you have Belle now. I guess I'll have to watch my tongue from now on when I accuse you of being heartless."

"Don't assume this means I'll suddenly turn into a saint," Rumplestiltskin warned. "I'm still the same man."

"Trust me," Charming said drily, "I've come to expect very little of you."

A pause settled uncomfortably between them. Both men remained as they were, however, with their eyes on two very different women. Rumplestiltskin spoke up, mostly out of boredom. At least, that's what he told himself (he couldn't bear to consider the possibility that he might have developed a sense of sympathy).

"I do, however, know a thing or two about avoiding unnecessary arguments," he offered.

Charming's head shot up, his eyes immediately, almost desperately fixating on Rumplestiltskin. If the king was hoping for man-to-man camaraderie, Rumplestiltskin thought, Charming was going to be sorely disappointed.

"Is that what you do?" he asked anxiously, eyes wide. "Because I've _never_ seen you and Belle fight."

"We have the decency not to do it in public." Well that was a sentence that could be taken in multiple ways. Rumplestiltskin wished he'd given more of a thought to his wording before saying that one out loud.

"And even when we do have… disagreements," Rumplestiltskin quickly clarified, "They can hardly be called 'arguments.' I don't 'argue.' If I know I am right, all I have to do is prove it. If I'm wrong, I keep quiet. And if I'm right, but I know I won't be listened to, well, I keep quiet then too."

Charming still appeared tragically unenlightened. Oh well, some men had brains; others had good looks, vast fortunes, and prestigious positions of power. Rumplestiltskin heaved a longsuffering sigh.

"For example," he said, drawing out the words in impatience, "In this situation, I think worrying so much about the flowers that are used for one of the countless birthday celebrations in the life of someone who has hardly given Belle a second thought since arriving in town is ridiculous. But I know that if I say so, I will only be yelled at. So I keep my mouth shut."

Charming nodded slowly. "That doesn't seem like the sort of free and open communication that relationships are supposed to involve," he said.

"I'm not all too concerned about 'free and open communication,' to be honest," Rumplestiltskin admitted shamelessly. Charming frowned.

"Communication is the most important part of any relationship," Charming said. "It's usually what leads to relationships falling apart."

"Speaking from past experience, I can tell you that pirates and meddling fairies associated with popular primary colors are responsible for far more of my relationships falling through than any sort of communication failure," Rumplestiltskin said dismissively. Charming crossed his arms, leaning back slightly and looking incredibly smug.

"Whatever you say," Charming said.

Having nothing further to contribute to this conversation that wouldn't get him in trouble with Belle, Rumplestiltskin limped off, finding himself a considerably more solitary location in which to brood.

XXX

"Regina?"

Rumplestiltskin approached the Queen-turned-Mayor with a smug smirk and one eyebrow raised. Regina was so clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Of course she was; she was at the birthday party of the woman who, for all intents and purposes, stole her only child from right out under her nose. Rumplestiltskin could only imagine what Henry must have said to convince her to come, because of course it was Henry, no one else could compel Regina to do anything without blackmail, bribery, or an outright threat. Rumplestiltskin would know; he spoke from experience.

The ex-queen scowled; her glare was cold enough to freeze hell. She growled at Rumplestiltskin through gritted teeth: "Not. One. Word."

Rumplestiltskin broke into a grin reminiscent of his old, Dark One self. "Oh, you know I'll not be honoring that request, dearie," he said. Regina groaned in exasperation, the wine glass in her hand tilting dangerously. She didn't grace Rumplestiltskin with an answer.

"I'll be honest," Rumplestiltskin said in a falsely casual voice, mimicking what one might sound like when making casual conversation with an indifferent acquaintance, as opposed to taunting a former archenemy, "I'm surprised to find someone more out of place at this party than I am."

Regina's glare only intensified. "The only reason you are not currently burning alive is that I promised Henry I wouldn't use magic except in emergencies. If I were you, I would not tempt my wrath."

"Once again, dearie, not going to happen." Rumplestiltskin quirked his eyebrows, a nonverbal challenge. In a display of complete disregard for his own well-being – or in other words, in a display of his usual behavior – Rumplestiltskin enjoyed few things more than dancing shamelessly on Regina's very last nerve. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Turning abruptly on her heel to face Rumplestiltskin more directly, Regina fixed him with a steely look. "If that's the way this evening is going to go, then fine," she said calmly.

There was a moment's pause during which Rumplestiltskin found his eyes irresistibly drawn towards Belle dancing carelessly with Jefferson, who seemed to be regaling her with his mad tales of Wonderland. Rumplestiltskin knew better than to be jealous; Jefferson was still utterly in love with his late wife, Alice. Although Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but wish he could dance with Belle so freely… If only it weren't for this bloody cane. And his apparent lack of any sense of fun.

He could, however, imagine himself dancing with Belle in the way Charming was dancing with Snow…

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), Rumplestiltskin's fantasies could go no further, as Regina interrupted them, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Mm, I know that look," she said, tapping her chin with one expensively manicured fingernail and slyly eyeing Rumplestiltskin out of the corner of her eye. "I may only be here in order to prove to my son that his birth mother and I can see past our differences and exist in the same room without attacking one another, but at least I'm not the pathetic old man engaging in eye-sex with a woman half his age."

Her ruthless smile gleamed white in the dimly lit room. Rumplestiltskin clenched the fist not clutching his cane and gritted his teeth. _I must not kill anyone in front of Belle. I must not kill anyone in front of Belle._ He repeated this over and over in his head, but he swore if Regina used another crude colloquialism, he would keep her disembodied head as a trophy of his conquest. He may even mount it on his wall.

"Your most regal _Majesty_," he said snidely, biting out his words and exercising an admirable level of restraint, "I would most sincerely _advise_ you not to make any comments regarding my, for lack of a better word, _relationship_ with _anyone_, and _especially_ not with Belle."

Regina was unperturbed. She shrugged wordlessly, returning her attention to the rest of the party guests, which was to say, the rest of the town population. After several minutes, she spoke once again.

"I'd suggest," she said with an unaltered air of superiority, head held high as she took a step away from him in the direction of Henry, who had finally left Emma's side for the first time that evening, "That before you cast your stones in _my_ direction…" She gave him a pointed look that unquestionably contained a thinly veiled threat. "…You ensure _I_ don't have any means by which to cast any back at you."

She stalked off, leaving Rumplestiltskin seething with rage, cursing her sodding metaphorical stones, and wanting nothing more than to strap Regina beneath a flat wooden plank and slowly pile entirely _literal _stones on top of her until her internal organs were crushed beneath the weight. It was a pity that such practices were viewed as "barbaric" and "medieval." In the old world, he could crush to death as many peasants as he wanted, so long as he was sure no one would miss them.

Then again, in the old world, he'd been a contemptible dark sorcerer with a penchant for causing misery in others.

XXX

It was another two hours of silently fuming and plotting Regina's murder before Rumplestiltskin's violent train of thought was interrupted by Belle tapping him on his shoulder and announcing that she had had enough partying and was ready to go home.

"I've danced so long I don't think I'll be able to walk tomorrow," she admitted, holding her kitten heels in one hand and looping her other arm through Rumplestiltskin's elbow. "If only I hadn't worn heels." She smiled sweetly up at him. "Ready to go, then?"

If only she knew how ready he was. But Rumplestiltskin couldn't let his bitterness affect the way he treated Belle (at least, no more than it already did). Instead, he simply nodded, allowing Belle to lead him out into the brisk night air.

Walking back to the library, Belle struck up conversation about the various things Jefferson had told her about all the many worlds he'd traveled to. She gazed up at Rumplestiltskin curiously.

"Tell me, did you know Jefferson at all in the old world?" she asked.

Rumplestiltskin hesitated. "I… did," he admitted. Belle cottoned on to the implications of his discomfort remarkably quickly; she was clearly getting used to him. He wasn't sure if he was reassured or worried by that particular prospect.

"What… did you do to him?" she asked, almost fearfully, as if she didn't really want to hear the answer. Rumplestiltskin shook his head.

"The Hatter is actually one of the few people here who doesn't hold a grudge against me," he explained. "I made one deal with him, but no one was hurt – at least, not through anything I did – and no unborn children were bargained for."

Belle nodded, still seemingly unconvinced. "Is that… it?" She wouldn't make eye contact. "You specifically didn't hurt anyone, and no one signed away their unborn child? If that's your definition of a harmless deal, I'd hate to hear more of what you've done."

Rumplestiltskin was momentarily speechless. Well, when she put it that way… he sounded like a monster.

Wasn't he a monster, though? Hadn't he always known that? Hadn't he come to terms with it?

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm not proud of a lot of things I did, Belle," he murmured. By now they'd reached the library and were standing at the door, each unwilling to cut the conversation short until all was said and done. "In two days, I'll be one hundred and seventy-five, and in all that time I've done very little to redeem myself." He cut himself off, realizing in that moment just how grim he sounded, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, you've just had a wonderful evening and now I'm ending it terribly." He kissed Belle briefly on the cheek, attempting a smile. "I hope you enjoyed yourself. Will I see you tomorrow for lunch?"

Belle gave an equally artificial smile and placed her hand on the doorknob, quietly letting herself in. She paused in the doorway, meeting Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "You can count on it."


	4. Truth or Drink

**This Year**

_A/N: Well this chapter took forever. I finally just gave up and fell back on my default plot device: alcohol. (For the characters, not for me. In case that wasn't clear.) Not one of my best chapters, more of a filler than anything else, but still plenty of entertainment value. Read on._

XXX

**Spring**

**4: Truth or Drink**

XXX

**_14 April_**

XXX

She knocked, knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. She knew Rumplestiltskin wouldn't be expecting her. With her luck, he might not even be home.

The skies were gray, threatening rain. Belle was privately glad of it; the world was parched from winter and there had thus far been very little spring rain, despite the familiar cliché of "April showers." If the showers didn't make an appearance soon, there might not be any May flowers.

The sound of the door latch clicking jolted Belle from her tangential reverie to the present moment. Rumplestiltskin appeared in the doorway as it swung open. He leaned on his cane, wearing an expression of mild surprise. Rightfully so, too. Belle hadn't seen him since Emma's party, when she'd unfairly gotten a bit cross with him (not entirely her fault, though, it _had_ been her time of the month, so she'd already been on edge). Not to mention it was getting late, already past dinnertime, which was the latest Belle ever appeared on Rumplestiltskin's doorstep.

"Belle," he said, sounding pleasantly surprised but still wary. "What are you doing here?"

Belle smiled softly, nonverbally offering a truce between them, which Rumplestiltskin instantly accepted. He stepped aside with a grand sweeping gesture to let her in. She entered the house, glad to have the evening chill shut out behind her.

"It's your birthday," she said plainly, answering his previous query. Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows shot up.

"How'd you find that out?" he asked defensively. Of course, anyone past the age of thirty (especially the 175-year-old Dark One) never wanted their birthday, let alone their age, to become public knowledge.

"You mentioned it on the way home from Emma's party," Belle reminded him. "You said, 'In two days I'll be 175.'"

Rumplestiltskin frowned, clearly disappointed with himself for letting that slip, and led Belle into the living room to take a seat on the sofa, motioning for her to do the same. "I told you my age?" he said with more than a hint of distress.

"To be fair," Belle said, "I'm technically over sixty years old." She shrugged. "Still less than half your age, but not exactly young."

Anxiety forgotten, Rumplestiltskin's mouth quirked up. He cupped her chin with one hand. "You don't look it." He placed a brief, gentle kiss on her lips and Belle blushed lightly, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"Yes, well," Belle said, shifting under Rumplestiltskin's intense gaze. She chose not to respond to his compliment; it would only make her blush harder. "Your age hardly counts when you spend most of those years under various curses that kept you from aging."

"True," Rumplestiltskin admitted. "Still, hardly fair of me to keep such a beautiful young woman all to myself." Gazing at her with half-lidded eyes, he brushed his lips against her jaw. Belle shivered and bit her lip, relishing in the effect Rumplestiltskin had on her. Her lips stretched into a smile.

"What, you'd rather share me?" she teased, knowing his answer. Rumplestiltskin was trailing his lips down her neck by now, leaving a path of heat in their wake. He returned his attention to her lips, eyes focused on them with intense fixation. His hand on her chin drew her near. Belle turned to face him more directly, one hand on the sofa cushion to keep her balance as her head started spinning, intrigued by the possessive gleam in Rumplestiltskin's dark eyes.

"Oh, my dear, you know I would never do that," he said, accent thick. "I've always intended on keeping you all to myself." She didn't doubt it.

Their faces were mere breaths apart. Belle smiled, chuckling softly. Her eyes fluttered. "Mm, I should be insulted," she murmured.

"You probably should…"

Belle's hands slid down from Rumplestiltskin's shoulders so that her palms rested on his chest; he swiftly closed the space between them to capture her lips for a second time. The kiss was long and slow and deep. Belle tilted her head, humming softly against Rumplestiltskin's mouth; he leaned forward until she was reclining against the armrest. Belle's fingers gripped fistfuls of Rumplestiltskin's shirt to drag him closer before she flung her arms around his neck, burying one hand in his hair.

It was inconvenient, sitting like this with their legs all clumsily in the way. Whatever, it only meant they'd need more practice to perfect their kissing technique. Belle liked that idea.

The kiss was open-mouthed but each was too afraid to initiate anything, and it ended before it could get too heated, because Belle had come here with a purpose and that purpose was not to snog Rumplestiltskin on his sofa until her brain turned to butter, as tempting and enjoyable as the prospect might seem.

Besides, there would be plenty of time for snogging later. Belle would make sure of it.

There was some doubt, however, as to whether Rumplestiltskin would agree to what she had planned for the evening. Determined to get her way, Belle turned on the charm in a way that Red had assured her no heterosexual man could turn down.

Nimble fingers toying with his hair, taking care to brush against his neck as frequently as possible, Belle scooted even nearer to Rumplestiltskin. She smiled demurely and applied a practiced look of distraction as her eyes intently watched what her hands were doing.

"Rumplestiltskin," she began in a silky tone, pretending she was oblivious to the look he was giving her as his eyes bore into her. It was _that_ look, the one she'd begun to have dreams about lately. The one he usually tried not to show.

"Yes, Belle?" Oh, gods, he could say her name like that any time he wanted…

"You don't happen to have any… wine around here, do you?"

Belle could practically follow his train of thought just by watching it reflected in his eyes: nearly answering her, pausing to consider the ramifications, realizing it wasn't such a good idea, knowing their inhibitions would probably be lowered and there was no telling what they would end up doing. He opened his mouth, probably to offer a non-alcoholic alternative, when Belle intrepidly let her hands slide beneath his collar, toying with the top button of his shirt. One hand found its way back to his chest, felt his heart stuttering and his breath hitch and she knew she'd won.

"There's a cabinet in the kitchen," he breathed, eyes struggling to stay open, accent thickening further, layering on like sweet molasses. Belle's heart sighed as she forced herself to withdraw her advances and rise to her feet, stumbling a bit at first before she gained her footing. She floated over to the liquor cabinet and fetched several bottles of expensive-looking wine, thinking of just how much she'd love to see how thick she could make his accent get. Another time, perhaps.

Belle brought over two wineglasses, one for each of them. "Now," she said, perching delicately beside him. Rumplestiltskin looked at her with an expression of mild amusement and curiosity as to what she had planned. "Seeing as it's your birthday, but you're not the celebratory type, I had a bit of trouble thinking of something we could do. Instead of baking a cake or having a party, I figured you and I could play a little game."

Rumplestiltskin quirked an eyebrow. "What sort of game?" Belle scooted forward, setting the glasses down on the coffee table and placing her palms on her thighs.

"I'll ask you a question," she explained, "And you have the choice to either answer truthfully, or take a drink. And then you'll take your turn and do the same to me."

"And how do I win this game?" Of course that would be the first question he asked. Belle rolled her eyes.

"It's not a game of winning."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Every game is a game of winning."

"Everything isn't about winning!" Belle insisted. He looked at her like she'd just told him the sky was green.

"Of course it is," he answered plainly. "Anyways, where's the fun in a game with no winners and losers?"

"The fun is," Belle poured red wine in each of their glasses, setting one in front of him and keeping the other where it was, "No question is off-limits. And you _must_ tell the truth – the _whole_ truth – at all times, so it's like a game of Truth or Dare, but instead it's Truth or Drink. And we'll both be drunk by the end."

Rumplestiltskin considered the idea. "It's hardly a fair match," he observed, probably just being abstinent at this point. "I have far more skeletons in my closet than you. And I've lived longer," he pointed out, accentuating his argument with a jab of his finger in the air.

"Yes, but I get the feeling you'll be a natural at asking uncomfortable questions," Belle countered. "With my curiosity and your deep, dark secrets and inappropriate behavior, I think we'd be a smart match in this game."

"Fair point." He pursed his lips. "Alright, I'll play. Who's first?"

Belle beamed triumphantly. "I'll start. Something easy to begin with. Um… how many siblings did you have?"

"Four," he answered easily. Belle waited for more, but he simply stared at her uncooperatively.

"…That's it?" she said. "You're not going to tell me about them?"

Rumplestiltskin grinned in that insufferably smug way of his. "You only asked how many I had, not what they were like. I answered. I had four."

Belle glared, though it was without any real malice. She had expected this sort of behavior from him. "Fine. If you're going to be stingy, than that's how we'll play." She crossed her arms in a nonverbal challenge. "Your turn."

He smirked. "What was your opinion of me when we first met?"

"You mean when you took me away from my home and family?" she said pointedly. "I only knew what I'd heard: that you were a powerful creature of magic who stole children in the night and left a path of chaos wherever he roamed. I knew you lived in a big, dark castle in the woods, and I knew you could do almost anything anyone asked of you. So, I suppose my opinion was… mostly negative. I was afraid of you, though not as afraid as I was of the ogres destroying our entire kingdom. And you certainly did nothing to help my opinion, waltzing in and acting like a maniacal psychopath."

"Yes, I was quite proud of that reputation." He smiled reminiscently. Belle smacked his arm.

"You still are," she teased, then took on a more serious tone. "Okay, okay, my turn. Um… same question. What was _your_ initial opinion of _me_?"

"I thought you were foolish and naïve," Rumplestiltskin answered immediately and without a hint of shame. "I figured a beautiful young thing like you would never last in the Dark Castle. I thought, 'She'll throw herself out of the highest tower within the week.'"

"So what you're saying is," Belle said with a self-satisfied grin, "I exceeded your expectations." She may have been unabashedly fishing for a compliment, but she didn't care. She hadn't drunk a sip of wine and already she was feeling more carefree than she'd been in a long time. She did not expect the meaningful look Rumplestiltskin gave her.

"You exceeded _every_ expectation, love."

It took every ounce of Belle's self restraint (of which she had plenty) to keep herself from kissing his lights out.

"If you've finished with your flattery," she said instead, "I believe it's your turn."

"Ah, yes." Rumplestiltskin made a show of deliberating what to ask. When he decided, he caught her gaze intently, prefacing his question with a brief explanation. "Don't think I'm trying to make you uncomfortable by asking this," he said, "But my question is… What did Regina do to you, when she had you captive?"

Belle froze. She could tell him. By all rights, she probably _should_. Maybe he could help her with the nightmares she still had, that caused her to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, all alone and feeling that familiar fear like ice in her spine.

Instead, she took a long drink of wine. Rumplestiltskin looked on with concern. By way of explanation, she said, "It's in the past, and if I told you, you would only hate Regina even more than you already do. I can tell she's changed, so there's no use dwelling on what she's done."

Rumplestiltskin at least had the decency to pretend he understood.

"My turn, then," Belle said, determined to lighten the atmosphere that had been so severely dampened by Rumplestiltskin's last question. "Alright, I've already taken a drink; let's see if I can get you to. How – meaning when, where, and to whom – did you lose your virginity?"

Rumplestiltskin nearly choked on the air he was breathing. "Belle!" he spluttered, taken aback. Belle grinned, her tongue poking out between her teeth.

"Truth or Drink, Rumplestiltskin," she reminded him.

Instantly, Rumplestiltskin downed the contents of his glass. Belle refilled them both, feeling victorious. "I know you were married, Rum," she reminded him. "It's not like I expect you to tell me you've never… _you_ know." She winked.

"Actually," Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat, still coughing, "It, er, wasn't… with my wife."

Belle couldn't help it; she burst into laughter. Rumplestiltskin glared; he was not amused.

"Alright, it's my turn," he said, leaning back. Once he'd come up with an idea, he looked inordinately pleased with himself. "When did you first realize you were attracted to me?"

…Smug bastard. Belle blushed crimson. "Wipe that smirk off your face, I haven't even begun my answer yet." He did nothing of the sort. Big surprise there.

"You brought up my virginity. It's all fair game from there."

"Fine, um… I have to tell the whole truth?"

"Or take a drink, yes. But keep in mind that I will consider the latter option to be an admittance of defeat. Which means I win."

Belle cursed. She was never one to back down from a challenge. She sighed and answered. "Right, well, I suppose I'd been getting used to you for some time by then, but when I first realized my feelings for you… Um, I'd have to say it was the day I took down the curtains. And fell. And you, er, caught me." She trailed off. Surely her face was a brilliant shade of red.

Instead of teasing her, Rumplestiltskin merely gaped. Belle shifted uncomfortably. "What're you looking at me like that for?"

"It's just…" Rumplestiltskin shook his head marginally, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "That's… when I first realized it as well."

"Really?" Belle's eyes widened. What a coincidence. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it was fate.

After the initial shock wore off, Belle's lips curled into a smirk. "Now that I think about it, it's hardly surprising," she said. "What man could resist an armful of woman?" She caught herself immediately, and corrected herself: "Sorry, I forgot. 'Not a man,' you always said."

"True that I wasn't a man then," Rumplestiltskin said, eyes glinting, "But I am now."

Belle grinned. "So what you're saying is, if I fell into your arms now, you wouldn't be able to resist?" It was certainly an intriguing prospect.

"Actually, I'd probably collapse," he said with a pointed look at his leg.

"Ah, right." Belle shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to find another way to get inside your head."

"Not necessary," Rumplestiltskin replied. He tapped his forehead, "You're already living rent-free up here."

Belle bit her lip. "My turn, then," she said quietly, fighting another blush, "And I'll ask you… What about me do you find attractive?"

"What about you _don't_ I find attractive, would be an easier question to answer." Rumplestiltskin chuckled. Not his old spine-tingling, high-pitched cackle, but still effective. "Your hair," he teased a curl with his fingers, hand resting on her shoulder, "Those eyes, that smile, those bright red lips," he kissed her, slowly, languidly. Belle smiled against his mouth. "Everything," he murmured. Yep, _there_ were the spine-shivers.

"And for my question," he kissed her again, seemingly unable to stop, "I was wondering… in the Dark Castle, I'd often find you in the library reading when you had a spare moment. You were always very quick to slam whatever you were reading shut before I ever got a good look. So my question is, what on earth could you have been reading?"

Belle blushed and stammered. So he remembered that, huh? Oh dear… "Um…" Without further hesitation, she reached for her glass and downed its contents in a single gulp. Rumplestiltskin smirked.

"Ah, so you found the adult section." Belle glared. This meant war.

XXX

Three bottles of wine later, Belle was past tipsy. It seemed both she and Rumplestiltskin still had plenty of information they weren't comfortable sharing with one another, primarily involving, well, each other.

Belle refused to divulge any information regarding her more intimate thoughts and feelings, as did Rumplestiltskin. Not that they didn't persist in asking. That was the fun of it, after all. And the more wine they drank, the more promiscuous their questions became.

As a result, Belle didn't think Rumplestiltskin would take it too personally if she asked about his past. So she did. "What happened to your wife and son?" she asked.

Immediately, Rumplestiltskin's self-satisfied smirk fell from his face. His expression closed off and he turned to avoid Belle's eyes. He silently refilled his wineglass and drank from it. Belle's smile faded as well, and she placed a comforting hand on Rumplestiltskin's thigh, just as she'd done those many years ago when she'd last asked about his son, in the Dark Castle. The day she ruined everything.

Perhaps that should have been her first clue not to press the issue. But instead of holding her tongue, the ever-curious Belle reached up to gently take Rumplestiltskin's chin in her hand, tilting his head until their eyes met.

"You know you can tell me anything," she assured him, kissing him softly. His expression remained blank, however, with the exception of the flicker of pain in his eyes, so brief she could have imagined it. "I wish you'd tell me," she whispered as an afterthought.

"I can't," he replied, voice almost breaking, or was that also her imagination?

"Are you afraid I'd leave you?" she asked, genuinely curious. She could never leave him. As much as she, at times, knew she should… she was never capable of going through with it. "Rumplestiltskin, you know I wouldn't." She attempted a smile, kissed him again, but he still was not responding, other than to rest a hand on her shoulder, fingers brushing her curls. "I love you too much."

The clock ticked away the seconds, the only noise in the other wise silent house. Belle bit her lip. "Why won't you trust me?"

She knew she'd done wrong the moment she said it. Rumplestiltskin withdrew himself from Belle and sighed, pulling himself to his feet and offering her a hand up, which she took.

"It's late," he said softly. The clock read eleven thirty, and Belle got the feeling she had overstayed her welcome. A part of her – the part that on several occasions found itself wanting to slap Rumplestiltskin for being so difficult all the time – wished he'd get over himself and just _talk_ to him already so they could move on. Somehow she knew they couldn't take their relationship any further until she heard the full story.

"You're right," was all she said. She kissed him on the cheek, reluctantly withdrew her hand, and donned her cardigan. Once she'd reached the front door, she spared a glance over her shoulder, communicating everything she was too tired to say in one look. "Think about it, will you?"

She didn't need to tell him what she meant.

XXX

Every time. Every bloody time they got close to moving forward, taking the next step – whatever that step may be – Rumplestiltskin had to go and ruin it by keeping secrets.

He needed to tell her. He needed to tell her everything. But how could he say it? How could he watch her, see the pain and horror and disgust and fear in her eyes? He didn't think he could stand it, least of all the possibility of her fearing him. He never wanted her to be afraid again.

Why doesn't he just tell her the truth? She'd made it clear she wouldn't leave him for it. That is what he'd feared, wasn't it?

But no, there was more. For him, there was always more. He feared her judgment. What would she think of him when she learned what he'd done? And to his own wife and son… Judging by his past actions, she probably ought to leave him. Who was to say he wouldn't hurt her like he'd hurt everyone else he ever cared about? Who was to say he had changed at all?

He collapsed at his desk, unsure what to do, how to fix this.

If only there was a way to prove to he could change…

He sighed and took out a pen and paper.

"_Belle—_

_You were right when you said I should trust you, and I'd like to tell you everything._

_I was only seventeen when I met my wife, Milah…_"


	5. What Henry Saw

**This Year**

_A/N: This chapter's a little short. Henry learns of Gold's past through a somewhat unconventional means. Henry's views on Emma, Regina, Gold, and even Jefferson. As for the music box, the idea was inspired by _Once Upon a December_ from the animated movie _Anastasia_._

XXX

**Spring**

**5: What Henry Saw**

XXX

**_21 April_**

XXX

"I don't like this, Henry."

The rain fell down in buckets all over Storybrooke. Mother and son tramped through puddles, each footstep a squelch or splash. It was raining heavily when Henry woke up that morning and hadn't let up since.

Emma's face was set into its default look of suspicion and readiness. Henry thought it was the coolest thing in the world to have for a mother this brave and beautiful independent woman, the scrappy underdog turned battle-hardened warrior and Savior of Storybrooke. Some day, when he was grown, Henry hoped to be half as strong and capable and confident as Emma.

Thinking about it, Emma really was the polar opposite of Henry's "other" mom, Regina. For ten years he'd known no other parent but the ex-Queen, a compulsive liar and unrepentantly wicked enchantress. Although, in the end, it turned out Regina's ruthless attacks were the result of a loveless past, several manipulative parent or mentor figures, a malfunctioning sense of justice, and a moral compass that didn't always point north. Kind of like Batman. Which, to a ten-, now eleven-year-old boy, was really, really cool.

And then there was Emma. Emma, the enigma, the mother he'd always longed to meet, to know. She could have been anyone. Henry's search for the woman who gave birth to him could have led him to an aspiring actress slash penniless waitress in California, a dead prostitute in the allies of Las Vegas, or a happily married middle-class housewife who wanted nothing to do with him. But instead he'd found Emma, the blazing, fiery bail bondswoman with a razor-sharp wit and an impressive set of impenetrable emotional armor that she'd somehow let Henry into through the chinks.

So although Henry shamelessly ignored Emma's extremely vocal protests when Mr. Gold – Rumplestiltskin – had phoned the Sheriff station and taken Henry up on his request to get together and discuss the old sorcerer's backstory, the eleven-year-old still had the utmost respect for his butt-kicking, crime-fighting birth mother.

After all, there really wasn't anything to be afraid of. Mr. Gold was far from harmless, but aside from underhanded manipulation to get what he wanted, the man would only actually hurt someone who'd wronged him. As far as Henry knew, he hadn't done anything to earn a spot on Gold's hit list. In fact, if Henry was being particularly optimistic, he might even go so far as to say that Gold liked him, was at least vaguely fond of him. Of course, Emma would think the notion crazy, which was why Henry had kept it to himself. He'd had enough of mothers who thought he was crazy.

"I'll be fine, Mom," he told Emma, giving the blonde a reassuring smile as they approached Mr. Gold's door. It was after hours at the pawnshop, so Henry was banking on finding Gold at home. Maybe Belle would even be there. That thought cheered Henry up a little; Belle always brought him really good books from the library and let him borrow them as long as he wanted. Belle was nice.

Emma gave Henry an agitated look, seemingly torn between her well-deserved trust of her son's judgment and her inherent _dis_trust of Mr. Gold. Henry looked up at Emma with his biggest, most pleading eyes – a look he knew even his tough-shelled mother could not resist – and schooled his tone into sounding as logical and well-informed as it could. If there were two methods Henry knew to be near-infallible, they were, first, begging, and second, employing reason. These tactics were even more effective when executed simultaneously, as he was currently doing.

"Please, Mom," Henry said levelly, "I know what I'm doing. But I really need Rumplestiltskin's side of the story before August – Pinocchio – and I can finish the book."

Emma bit her lip. She was silent a moment before sighing heavily. At that moment, Henry knew he had won. He fought to keep his face from splitting into a wide grin. Emma needed to think he was taking this seriously. Which he was, of course he was. This was serious business.

At long last, Emma reached up and knocked on Gold's front door. Then, they waited.

Several long moments passed. Henry began to doubt; maybe Gold was in his shop today, or just out in the town, though the latter was far less likely. But just as Henry was opening his mouth to tell Emma they could try again tomorrow, a click on the other side of the door indicated that the latch had been undone and the door swung open, revealing a surly Mr. Gold, dressed as immaculately as always, despite it being a weekend.

"Ah, Henry." He didn't smile, but his frown let up a little. Meanwhile, he completely ignored Emma, which was probably for the best. Henry gave a polite attempt at a smile.

"Hi Mr. Gold," he said. "Is now a good time to talk about the book sequel?"

Gold looked at the house behind him, dark and empty; clearly Belle was elsewhere. "I suppose it's as good a time as any," he said. Henry brightened.

"Good," he said. Gold stepped aside to allow Henry in. The boy hesitated glancing back at his mother. He ventured to ask, "Is it okay if—?"

"No," Gold interrupted sternly. "Only you."

Henry swallowed. Emma's hand on his shoulder tightened its grip protectively, but Henry shrugged her off.

"It's okay, Mom," he said in a low voice. "I'll keep my phone with me and I'll call you when we're done."

For his eleventh birthday, Emma had gotten Henry a cell phone to replace their former method of communicating via walkie talkie. He kept it on his person at all times, as instructed.

Reluctantly, Emma relinquished her hold on Henry. The eleven-year-old entered the forbidding house, and Gold shut the door behind them with a thud of finality, sealing them in the chilly, unlit house. Henry inadvertently shuddered; he couldn't help but get the sense that this was how most horror movies started out.

Without a word, Gold led Henry through the front room to a sitting area adjacent to the kitchen. In the dim light from the windows Henry noticed Gold's house was littered with what the unschooled eye might write off as junk but Henry recognized as various artifacts from the fairy tale world: a genie's lamp, a porcelain tea set, a golden scepter inlaid with a heart-shaped ruby, a deck of slightly charred playing cards, and more mirrors than Henry had ever seen in one place.

Two high-backed leather armchairs sat opposite each other in the sitting room. Gold hooked his cane on the arm of one chair and sat down with obvious relief, stretching out his bad leg on the footrest. He looked up, seeing Henry still standing there awkwardly, and gestured for the boy to sit.

"Make yourself comfortable," he suggested. "I've lived a long time; my story takes a while to tell."

Obediently, Henry sat. A tea set sat on the coffee table beside Mr. Gold's chair. Gold poured himself a cup, then turned to Henry. "Tea?"

Henry shook his head. "No, thanks," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Alright." Gold reached into the drawer of the coffee table, withdrawing a small, ornately decorated, oval-shaped box. He looked intently at Henry, expression blank and indecipherable. "I've never been the best at telling tales," he explained, motioning for Henry to scoot his chair closer. Henry did so, heaving it over until the chairs were practically side-to-side.

Gold was fiddling with the box. "So," he continued, setting the thing down on the table between them, "You'll forgive me if I let this tell it for me."

Henry squinted at the knob Gold was twisting on the side of the box. When Gold placed the box down, its lid popped open and a tinkling, eerie tune emanated from within it. Henry peered at it curiously. A music box? He didn't quite understand… didn't… quite…

Henry's eyes drooped. What exactly was it that he didn't understand? He couldn't… couldn't quite remember… When did he get so tired?

The soft melody from the music box pervaded Henry's senses like an overpowering perfume; he felt his brain shutting down and a fog settling over it, clouding his thoughts. The haunting lullaby played on far longer than your average music box, but Henry was too drowsy to notice, his keen sense of observation significantly dulled. His eyes drifted shut, his breathing slowed, and he was out like a light before he could even suspect magic…

XXX

Henry felt as though he was emerging from a daze as he stumbled out of Gold's house. Emma was sitting on the doorstep in the rain, slouched against a support beam, snoring. Crinkling his brow, Henry gently nudged her with the toe of his sneaker.

"Emma."

Emma's only response was to mumble incoherently, head lolling from one side to the other. Henry repressed a smile, digging his sneaker deeper into Emma's side.

"Emma."

This time, she stirred. "Wha—?" she looked up, panicked, blinking rain from her eyes as it continued to pour down on the both of them. Thunder rolled softly in the distance. "Oh, Henry. Sorry, must've dozed off."

Henry shifted on his feet as his mother used the support beam to pull herself into a standing position. "You didn't have to wait outside," he said worriedly. What if she'd caught a cold, and it was all his fault?

"No, it's nothing," Emma said dismissively through a stifled yawn. "It's no trouble."

Henry frowned. "But… it's pouring rain." He gestured to the downpour around them. Once again, Emma shook her head like it was no big deal.

"It's just a little water." She shouldered her purse and glanced suspiciously over her shoulder at Gold's house, like she half expected it to grow teeth and swallow them whole. "How… how did the…" She searched for a word that would describe Henry and Mr. Gold's little get-together, but honestly, there wasn't one. Emma heaved a sigh. "Did Mr. Gold behave?"

"Yeah," Henry said, the memories of what had happened after he'd fallen into the music box's trance flooding over him so that his voice came across sounding a little haunted.

"What's wrong, Henry?" Emma said as they descended the stairs, assuming her who-do-I-have-to-beat-up-this-time tone.

"Nothing," Henry replied, perhaps a bit too perkily. Emma leveled him with a no-nonsense, alright-mister-what's-up stare. Henry withered sheepishly and cast his gaze down at his feet, noticing the laces were undone. He leaned over and did them up while Emma stood over him and waited patiently, both for him to tie his shoes and to answer her question.

Henry straightened up, breathed in deeply, and confessed everything in one go: "So I went in and Mr. Gold had this music box that played this really creepy song and it made me feel all sleepy and I started having these weird dreams that were actually scenes from Mr. Gold's life back in Fairy Tale Land and it wasn't until I woke up that I realized the music box must have been magical because how else could I be dreaming _his_ memories and he used to have a wife but she left him and he had a son who was about my age when he—wait, no I shouldn't tell you; Mr. Gold trusted me enough to tell me and I have to keep it secret I'm _sorry_."

Emma held up her hands to stop his breathless diatribe. "Whoa, there, tiger." She chuckled and shook her head, playfully ruffling Henry's hair. "I didn't catch a word of that. Mind telling me again, maybe a little slower this time?"

"Right, sorry." Henry nodded, making a futile attempt to shield himself from the rain with his arm, simultaneously bringing up the hood of his rain jacket and huddling closer to Emma under her umbrella. He drew in another deep breath. "At Mr. Gold's house, he had this magical music box. It played a creepy song and I fell asleep and had weird dreams that were actually his memories but I can't tell you about them because I feel like that would be betraying his trust…" He trailed up and looked up at Emma apologetically. She merely shrugged.

"I didn't know Mr. Gold was capable of trusting anyone, but okay, kid, whatever you think is best." Emma grinned. "Everyone in town knows your judgment is better than mine."

"Great parenting." Jefferson's voice drifted over from across the street. He was strolling outside without a raincoat or umbrella, just his hat. He waved Emma and Henry down and crossed the street to meet them.

"Excuse me, _what_ did you just say about my _parenting_?"

Jefferson grinned. "Just that I really admire your approach. 'Your judgment is better than mine; do whatever you want and I'll go along with it.'" He winked. "_Great_. Are you going to keep that philosophy once he enters his teen years? Because I can really see that working out for you."

Emma glared. "You've got a little something… just there… oh, look, I can see the sarcasm dripping out of your mouth." She slapped Jefferson's arm. "Way to be subtle, douchebag."

"Is that any way to speak in front of your son?" Jefferson said, feigning shock.

"You need to go away," Emma said, grabbing Henry's hand and walking faster in hopes of shutting Jefferson out of their conversation. The relationship between the Sheriff and the Hatter had been a tenuous one ever since he, well, kidnapped her and forced her make him a hat. (Red, however, persisted that the two of them were merely repressing their intense attraction for one another. Emma begged to differ.)

"Come on, Emma," Jefferson said, lengthening his stride to keep up with Emma and Henry. "I know you and I kind of got off on the wrong foot, but you have to understand, desperate times called for desperate measures. You know what it's like, to be willing to go to any lengths for your kid."

"Sure, I understand," Emma said brusquely. She shot Jefferson a scathing look over her shoulder. "That doesn't mean I want to be your friend."

Jefferson only smirked. "Fair enough." They'd reached an intersection. he gestured down the road that led to his house. "This is me, so I suppose… I'll see you."

"Yeah, see you."

The Hatter parted ways with Emma with a tip of his hat. Emma was left standing there, mildly shell-shocked by her encounter with the local madman. Henry looked up at her from where he stood, clasping her hand and smiling slyly.

Seeing his smug look, Emma glared. "Oh, shut up."


	6. April Showers

**This Year**

_A/N: Another short one. Apologies are made and accepted, forgiveness is given, and fences are mended. Everything's great, until the sun goes down. Some things just won't stay in the past._

XXX

**Spring**

**6: April Showers**

XXX

**_25 April_**

XXX

He was in his shop. The bell on the door jingled pitifully as she timidly peeked her head in. He looked up, met her gaze. Both of them froze, each unwilling to make the first move. He blinked; she wet her lips and spoke.

"Hey." Her voice was soft, apologetic. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and she knew, even before she'd said a word, she was forgiven.

Belle entered the shop fully, venturing nearer to where Rumplestiltskin stood on the other side of the counter, tinkering with an antique clock. He was struggling to wind it up; without a word, Belle took it from him, slipped her dainty hand inside, and wound the clock herself.

"Thank you," he said gently. Belle looked up to find him gazing at her with bittersweet longing; she smiled. But all was not well. There was still much to be said, and if she didn't say it now, she would continue to find excuses not to and nothing would ever be settled.

Reaching into her sweater pocket, Belle withdrew several sheets of paper, unfolded them, and placed them on the counter between them, nodding at the words Rumplestiltskin had written.

"I read it," she said simply, bravely holding Rumplestiltskin's gaze. He didn't even need to look at the papers to know what it was.

When Rumplestiltskin didn't say anything, Belle spoke up again. "I shouldn't have forced you to tell me any of that," she said understandingly. "All that… Well, you don't need me to tell you it must have been hard for you. And… I just want to say that… you don't have to talk about it. Or you can. Whatever you want. I'm just glad… glad you could trust me with… that."

"I should've told you sooner," he said, looking down at the antique clock as he returned it to its place on the wall. "I'm sorry."

"No, _I'm _sorry," Belle interrupted, grabbing his hand when he returned to the counter. "I've spent this whole week trying to decide whether or not to forgive you, and I finally realized how _stupid_ that is. What am I holding out for?" She leaned forward with her elbows on the counter and looked up at him. "I thought for so long that I wanted you to change, but earlier today I wondered why on earth I would expect that of you." Her hand reached up to trace the collar of his suit jacket. "I fell in love with _you_. Why would I want you to become someone else?"

Rumplestiltskin looked at her as if what she'd just told him was the strangest thing he'd ever heard. "Belle, I…"

She silenced him with a kiss, standing on her tiptoes to lean across the counter and bury her hand in his hair, anchoring herself to him. When she broke away, she was smiling shyly, looking up at him through her lashes. "Don't. I know you. I know you don't like to talk about your past. I won't make you do it anymore. Not unless you want to." She kissed him again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I forgive you if you forgive me."

"But how could I ever forgive you?" Rumplestiltskin asked, looking intently serious in his questioning. "To forgive you would mean you've done something wrong. But that's not possible." He kissed her, briefly. "You're perfect."

Belle shook her head, but smiled all the same. "One of these days, your relentless flattery is going to drive me up the wall," she said, though she didn't really mean it. She practically lived for Rumplestiltskin's compliments. They were frequent and heartfelt and always genuine. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that one of these days, Rumplestiltskin's relentless flattery was going to drive Belle to snog him up against a wall. That seemed far more likely.

"Do you think you can be finished working for the day?" Belle asked, casually crossing to the other side of the room to admire a set of crystal vials, careful not to touch anything for fear it might break. Something about being around Rumplestiltskin and all her princessy grace and poise went right out the window. "I'd hate to walk home in the rain by myself." Belle glanced over her shoulder pleadingly, with big doe eyes, twirling a lock of her hair. Now that all their apologies were over and done with, she could get right back to convincing Rumplestiltskin to spend as much time with her as possible.

Leaning forward to examine the unique artifacts on display, Belle pretended not to notice Rumplestiltskin's frequent glances in her direction and turned away to peer through a glass case at a set of tiny ceramic animal figurines. "I'm sure I could close up early, just this once," he said.

Belle was fortunate to have her back to Rumplestiltskin so he could not detect her barely-repressed smile. For someone who had created and orchestrated an entire curse and in so doing shamelessly manipulated everyone he ever came across, Rumplestiltskin was surprisingly easy to control.

So they braved the rainy evening together, Rumplestiltskin holding his umbrella above the both of them and Belle plastering herself to his side under the pretense of staying dry. "I'll walk with you to the library," he offered as they neared the fork in the road that would separate them. Belle shook her head, guiding him in the other direction.

"I haven't spent time with you in weeks," she said. "I'll come with you to your house. I'll even make dinner." Rumplestiltskin smirked.

"You know I can't pass up that offer," he teased.

"I know. That's why I said it."

"You don't have to bribe me to spend time with you," Rumplestiltskin reminded her, glancing down at her fondly. "I just thought you'd want to go home."

"Not considering the alternative." She nudged him playfully and they entered his dark house, peeling off raincoats and shaking down umbrellas until they were both standing in a moonlit puddle of water around their feet.

"I don't mind rain, but I think I'd like it a lot more if it weren't so wet," Belle observed.

"Yes, well, water has a tendency to be rather, you know, wet," Rumplestiltskin teased. He followed Belle as she made herself at home, heading straight for the kitchen to cook something up. She was in the mood for spaghetti, but hadn't had a reason to make herself any. After a brief scan of Rumplestiltskin's pantry, she found exactly what she needed and set to work.

While Belle was cooking, Rumplestiltskin sat at the kitchen table and made casual conversation. The two of them were as comfortable around each other as if they'd never had any problems in their relationship, let alone just gotten over one. It was nice. Belle was happy.

The food ended up being delicious – Belle had gotten a lot of practice cooking when she'd served as Rumplestiltskin's housekeeper – and throughout the entire meal, Rumplestiltskin persisted in showering her with compliments as if he was trying to prove something. Not that Belle was complaining.

Afterwards, it was getting late and dark and the rain persisted in pouring down around them like the gods were doing their utmost to recreate the circumstances of Noah's flood. Belle had just finished clearing the dishes – Rumplestiltskin had insisted on helping, but she would have none of it – and ventured a glance outside at the wind-tossed trees and endless downpour. The thought of walking home in this was even worse than the thought of leaving Rumplestiltskin at all, even just for the night. She could have asked him to drive her, but she had other ideas in mind, not all of them entirely appropriate.

"Would you mind if I spent the night?" she asked casually, trying not to make a big deal of it. "If it wouldn't be any trouble. It's still dreadful out. And I've no place to be tomorrow."

With a similarly practiced nonchalance, Rumplestiltskin shrugged and got to his feet. "I think I may still have some of your things in the guest room. You can sleep there."

'_Or I could sleep in your room. Or we could _both_ sleep in your room. Or we could do things in your room that _don't_ involve sleeping. Your choice.'_ Of course, Belle said none of this, but she had a laugh imagining what Rumplestiltskin's response would be if she did.

"Sounds brilliant," she said instead. Hopefully the rain wouldn't keep her up too long.

XXX

Half past midnight, Belle woke with a start, tangled in the sheets of the guest bed, covered in a sheen of sweat from tossing and turning frantically. Her heart pounded in her chest and it was several seconds before her gasping breaths subsided and she could calm herself down.

The rain continued its steady, soothing rhythm on the roof above her head. Belle was wearing a nightgown from when she'd briefly lived in Rumplestiltskin's house, after the curse broke. It was thin and loose and she shivered through it.

Another nightmare. They came every night, without fail. Belle hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since she'd lived in the Dark Castle, not without enduring painfully vivid visions of her father's kingdom burning, her loved ones suffering, or any number of strange, convoluted methods of torture.

In part, she blamed Regina. That was when the nightmares had begun, when she'd been captured by the evil Queen and held captive in her castle. After Jefferson had let her out of the hospital basement, Belle had thought the nightmares would let up, but they were still just as bad as they'd ever been.

At least tonight she hadn't been screaming. Or so she assumed, for there was no sign that Rumplestiltskin had been woken.

Instead of trying to get straight back to sleep – she was in no hurry to return to the land of nightmares – Belle wrapped herself up in a blanket and padded barefoot down the stairs, mindful of the fact that Rumplestiltskin was sleeping just across the hall.

Downstairs, Belle poured herself a glass of milk and nicked a few chocolate chip cookies from the pantry. A chill had settled over the house; Belle fumbled in the darkness for the coat closet by the door. Her own jacket was still wet, but she found a warm, thick, dry coat of Rumplestiltskin's and put it on, glad to have its heavy weight on her shoulders.

After her milk and cookies, Belle returned to the guest room. She got into bed and wrapped herself up in a cocoon of blankets and Rumplestiltskin's coat, nestling her nose into the fabric and breathing deeply.

The pitter-patter of rain lulled her to sleep, and for the first time in over thirty years, Belle slept peacefully and dreamlessly.

XXX

Belle wasn't awake when Rumplestiltskin went downstairs for breakfast that morning, which was odd in and of itself – she was a morning person – but he didn't think much of it. He started making breakfast for the two of them, as a thank-you to Belle for cooking that delicious dinner.

When Rumplestiltskin finished preparing everything and Belle _still _wasn't up, he set everything on a tray and brought it up to the guest room, figuring everyone liked to be woken to breakfast in bed.

Once he reached the guest room door, Rumplestiltskin hesitated but a moment before easing it open with his shoulder. Belle was fast asleep in the bed, nestled cozily in the sheets, looking as beautiful and untroubled as he'd ever seen her. Rumplestiltskin hated to wake her, but knew she would hate to miss out on the day. He set the tray at the foot of the bed and stood beside Belle's sleeping form, finding her wrapped up in his winter coat, of all things. He couldn't help the fond smile that graced his features.

Gently shaking her shoulder, Rumplestiltskin bent down to murmur in her ear. "Darling, wake up," he said smoothly, unable to resist smiling. "I know how you hate to sleep through the morning."

Belle hummed pleasantly, sat up, and stretched. "I had the most pleasant night's sleep." She held Rumplestiltskin's coat close to her, eyes fluttering shut as she breathed it in.

"Were you cold last night?" he asked, nodding towards the heavy article of clothing.

"Yes," she admitted, "But it was nothing. I would've used my own jacket, but it was still wet from the rain."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, fetching the tray and placing it in front of her, taking his own plate of breakfast from it and dragging over the desk chair to sit and eat beside her.

"Oh, Rumple, you made me breakfast!" Belle beamed up at him. "Thank you."

Still smiling, Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "It's nothing compared to your wonderful dinner last night."

They started eating, not talking much until they had both washed it all down with juice.

"I'll step out and do the dishes while you get dressed," Rumplestiltskin said, taking the tray and empty plates a little awkwardly in one hand as he returned to the kitchen. Belle joined him shortly thereafter, dressed in a flowery sundress and carrying a pile of assorted clothing slung over one arm.

"I figured I'd take all this stuff out of your guest bedroom, get it out of your way," she said by way of explanation. Rumplestiltskin shrugged uncaringly.

"No need to trouble yourself," he said. "It's not as if I have other guests." Belle rolled her eyes. She was still wearing Rumplestiltskin's coat. He didn't want to say anything, but couldn't help staring at it questioningly.

Belle fidgeted with the too-long sleeves of the winter coat, not making eye contact. She looked as though she wanted to say something, confess something. But when she finally spoke, it was only to say, "This might seem a little odd, but do you mind if I keep this? Just for a little while." She wrapped herself up in it as if to make a point. "It's really warm."

"Not at all." Rumplestiltskin gestured to her. "I only wear it in the winter, so I won't be needing it."

Belle sighed gratefully, wrapping her arms around Rumplestiltskin in a tight hug. "Thank you," she breathed. He wasn't sure what was so important to her about this jacket, but it hardly mattered. So long as Belle was happy.

XXX

In the upcoming days, Belle found that she didn't have nightmares so long as she nestled up with Rumplestiltskin's coat at night and pretended he was near.


	7. Bring May Flowers

**This Year**

_A/N: Six brief anecdotes, set in the merry, merry month of May. Belle is faced with a rainbow of flowers and an impending chess match, Henry finally has the whole story, Alexandra makes friends with Pongo, Red can't help but meddle, and Rumplestiltskin puts Don Pedro to shame. What could possibly go wrong?_

XXX

**Spring**

**7: Bring May Flowers**

XXX

**_4 May_**

XXX

It was a lovely Sunday morning at the start of May. The weather had finally settled comfortably into a state of consistent warmth, and Belle could go outdoors without a jacket. Life was bliss.

Lately, Belle had taken to letting Henry and Pinocchio work on the sequel to Henry's book of fairy tales in the library on the weekends, when it was technically supposed to be closed. She discovered she had a soft spot for Henry – it was their shared love of books that did her in – and Pinocchio, who still insisted everyone call him August, was a nice enough guy as well.

Belle really had to get used to calling him August, though. When she'd first escaped Regina's makeshift prison in the hospital basement, Rumplestiltskin had pointed out everyone in town to her by using their "real" names from the old world.

That particular Sunday, Belle awoke at seven in the morning, got dressed and ready, and skipped down to the library. She wasn't expecting Henry until later that afternoon, so she was just going to do some shelving and reorganizing that she'd been putting off all week and then be on her way, probably to have breakfast at Granny's.

Entering the library, however, Belle froze. Golden rays of sunlight streaming in through the windows illuminated a vase of flowers – poppies – on the librarian's desk.

Approaching the vase, Belle saw there was no note, but she hardly needed to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out who had left them. After all, she only knew of one other person with a key to the library.

She smiled fondly. On a whim, Belle took one of the flowers, clipped off the stem with a pair of safety scissors she kept in her desk drawer, and tucked it into her hair.

It seemed this lovely spring day was only destined to get better.

At Granny's, Red commented on Belle's new hair accessory. "I like the color," the waitress said with a wink. "Matches my name." She set out Belle's tea and traipsed over to the kitchen to place Belle's order of waffles. When she returned, she had a few spare minutes to chat.

"What's new, curlicue? Where'd you get that pretty thing?" the waitress asked, giving one of Belle's bouncy curls a flick. Belle couldn't help but smile, her cheeks turning a little pink.

"Rum left me flowers," she said. "They were in a vase on my desk in the library this morning."

Red gave a mock gasp. "But that means he would've had to wake up before you, if he left them there without you knowing." She gave a nod of approval. "Now _that's_ dedication."

Belle rolled her eyes. "I don't get up _that_ early," she defended, even though she knew it wasn't true. In the winter she was often up before the sun.

Noticing Archie entering the diner for his morning coffee (though Belle knew it wasn't really the food he came for), Red got to her feet. "On a weekend?" she said to Belle. "Yeah, you're up pretty early. Most people like to _sleep in_ when they can. I would, if it weren't for work. But if you'll excuuuse me…"

Flipping her hair, Red pranced over to where Archie had taken a seat at the counter. "Hey there, Archie!" the waitress called. Belle smiled at the two of them and finished her tea.

On her way back from breakfast, Belle's phone buzzed in her pocket. Having not quite gotten used to the concept of caller ID, Belle answered it without a glance at the screen.

"Oh, Henry!" she said when she heard his voice on the other end. "Do you need to use the library? … Yes, I'm on my way; I'm just across the— Yep, there you are, I see you! … Okay, bye!"

Sure enough, Henry and August were standing outside the library, waiting. Belle unlocked the door to let them in.

"Sorry, I was just getting breakfast at Granny's," Belle explained as they entered the silent, sunny library. "You're here early," she observed conversationally.

"We're nearly finished, and Henry was particularly anxious to get to work," August explained. Belle nodded her understanding.

The three of them got settled at one of the large, round tables in the library, August at his typewriter and Henry sorting through illustrations to put them in chronological order and dictating the story to August. Belle mostly flitted around them, alternating between asking interested questions about the story and shelving books. She wasn't really paying attention to what was being said until her ears picked up on a very familiar tale:

"—And when he turned around, he could see in her eyes that she remembered," Henry was saying as August's fingers flew across the keys. "She said his name, 'Rumplestiltskin.' He probably couldn't believe his ears. 'I remember,' she said. 'I love you.'"

Henry waited for August to catch up. Belle approached them slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear, breathless. Henry and August both appeared oblivious to her nearness.

The click-clack of typewriter keys halted, and she spoke, her voice barely a whisper: "And then we kissed."

Everyone froze. Slowly, Henry looked up at her and nodded. "And then you kissed," he said matter-of-factly, with far too much maturity for someone his age. Sometimes Belle forgot how much he'd been through.

"But… but how did you get that story? Did… did he tell you?" she stammered.

"Yeah, sort of," Henry said, squirming a little in his seat. "I went over to his house. He… sort of showed me. With magic."

Belle's thoughts took her away from the conversation. What had possessed Rumplestiltskin to trust Henry with so much? Not that Henry didn't deserve that trust – he was perhaps the most trustworthy person Belle knew – but Rumplestiltskin had barely told _her_ his story, and now he was telling Henry?

Then again, perhaps it wasn't so strange. She squinted at Henry. He was probably close to the same age that Bae was when Rumplestiltskin lost him…

Shaking herself, Belle went on with her work.

Later that afternoon, the sound of the library door opening signaled Rumplestiltskin's arrival. Belle looked up from admiring an illustration of Charming and Snow and grinned when she saw it was him.

"Excuse me, boys," she said to Henry and August, sliding out of her chair and making her way over to Rumplestiltskin.

Rumplestiltskin nodded at the flower tucked in Belle's hair. "You're looking particularly lovely today," he said. Belle's grin widened.

"Yes, well, some thoughtful gentleman left me flowers this morning," she replied.

"How romantic," Rumplestiltskin candidly observed, playing along.

"I thought so too." Belle flicked a curl out of her eye, placing her hand at her heart melodramatically. "If only I knew the identity of my admirer. I would very much like to thank him."

"I wouldn't be averse to accepting your gratitude on his behalf," Rumplestiltskin offered fluidly. Belle smirked.

"I'm sure you'd just love that." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him languidly, not caring that August and Henry were just across the room pretending not to look.

XXX

**_5 May_**

XXX

On Monday morning, Belle went downstairs to open the library and was pleasantly surprised to find bright orange marigold waiting on her desk beside the poppies. She glowed, taking out her phone to text Rumplestiltskin.

"_Flowers again? You're spoiling me. –B_"

She sent off the message and pocketed her phone just as Ella arrived with Alexandra in her stroller, rapping her knuckles on the door. Belle let her in and the pair of them got everything ready for the day.

"Lovely flowers," Ella observed, gesturing to the side-by-side vases on the librarian's desk.

"Aren't they?" Belle beamed. "Rumplestiltskin's been leaving them. Today and yesterday."

Ella smiled as well. She'd long gotten over her hatred of Rumplestiltskin enough to chat with Belle about him. "That's so romantic," she said.

Not wanting to bore Ella by gushing endlessly about herself, Belle switched tracks, asking after Alexandra. "How is she?"

"She's saying more words now," Ella told Belle, letting the one-year-old out of her stroller to wander around. "But only when she feels like it. She loves to point things out on the street, and if she doesn't know the name, she just says 'dat.' The best is when she sees Archie walking Pongo. She points and squeals 'doggy' over and over. It's adorable."

"How is she with names?" Belle asked.

"Not quite there yet. Just 'mama' and 'dada' so far. But she's starting to recognize colors. Mostly red and blue. Oh, and look, watch this… C'mere, Lexi…"

Alexandra toddled eagerly into her mother's open arms. Ella bounced her daughter on her lap. "Where's your nose, Lexi?" she cooed. After a moment's hesitation, the grinning little girl pointed proudly to her cute little button nose.

"Good job!" Ella exclaimed enthusiastically. "Where's your eyes?"

Alexandra pointed with both hands to her eyes.

"Good! Where's your mouth?"

This went on, with Alexandra successfully identifying her nose, eyes, mouth, ears, teeth, head, hair, hands, toes, and tummy. When she finished, Belle applauded.

"Oh, bravo!"

Ella set down the squirming little girl, who toddled off towards the toy train set in the children's section. Alexandra was deterred, however, when her big blue eyes landed on the vases of bright red and orange flowers on Belle's desk. She pointed excitedly to the poppies.

"Wed!" she exclaimed, looking back towards her mother for validation. Ella nodded.

"That's right, sweetie," she said, walking over and crouching beside Alexandra. She pointed to the marigolds. "And those are _orange_." She pronounced the word slowly, and Alexandra looked where her mother was pointing before losing interest and continuing in her pursuit of toy trains. Ella looked after her fondly.

Lost in thought, Belle realized she'd never quite appreciated how adorable Alexandra was. Maybe she could offer to babysit sometime.

XXX

**_6 May_**

XXX

Sunny yellow daffodils were the flower of the day, and Belle was beginning to notice a pattern.

Offhandedly, Belle wondered where Rumplestiltskin was getting all these flowers. Props to him if he had braved the florist despite Maurice's distrust and disdain for the former Dark One, although Belle highly doubted that was the case. Maybe someone else in town had a garden Rumplestiltskin had access to.

Not much went on that particular Tuesday. Archie stopped by the library while he was out walking Pongo and Alexandra nearly exploded from excitement. Henry also came over after school to return a book he'd borrowed and check out three more.

Red brought Belle's lunch to the library and caught her up on the local gossip.

"I just think she needs to get back out there," she said, talking of Emma Swan. "Everyone suspected there was something going on between her and Graham," Belle was vaguely aware that Graham was the name of Storybrooke's former Sheriff, "And of course when he died she was devastated, but it's been… what, a year? Besides, Jefferson is _hot_."

"That doesn't mean you convince Grace and Henry to pull a parent trap!" Belle exclaimed. "You have _got_ to stop meddling, Red."

"It doesn't have to be Jefferson!" Red defended. "Hey, August seems to really like Henry. Why not him?"

"Maybe Emma is fine on her own," Belle supplied. "You were, for a long time."

"Yes, well. That's different," Red insisted.

"You're impossible."

XXX

**_7 May_**

XXX

Wednesday morning, Belle entered the library eager to see what flowers Rumplestiltskin had left for her today. She was expecting a rainbow theme, and sure enough, a vase – '_How many vases does he own?_' she wondered – of green chrysanthemums had joined the lineup.

"Impressive that he managed to find green flowers," Ella observed when she arrived that morning. "This is such a creative gesture," she continued. "I'm almost jealous."

"Yes, well, let's not forget that Thomas is much easier to put up with than Rumplestiltskin," Belle reminded her.

Ella nodded her agreement. "Although if anyone can keep that man in line, it's you."

XXX

**_8 May_**

XXX

Morning glories were the order of the day, their soft blue joining the colorful lineup.

Belle had lunch at Granny's with Rumplestiltskin that day. He was waiting for her when she arrived.

"All I ordered for you to drink was ice water with lemon," he said when she sat down.

"Perfect," Belle said sincerely. She couldn't stand carbonated drinks; perhaps it was from living her entire life without them, either in the old world or in the hospital basement.

"I liked the flowers this morning," she said. "Blue is my favorite color."

"Makes sense," Rumplestiltskin said. "It does look lovely on you."

"You say that about everything I wear," Belle said with a roll of her eyes.

"That's because you look lovely in everything you wear," he persisted.

Belle shook her head. "I'm sure I'd say the same about you, but you dress the same every day, so how would I know?"

"Are you taking a jab at the variety in my wardrobe?"

"Don't be insulted," Belle told him with a smile. "I personally think you're the most well-dressed man in town. And your cane makes you look dignified."

"I'm glad it's useful for something," Rumplestilskin said, looking down at it distastefully.

The two of them ordered their food, made casual small talk until it arrived, and ate together. When she'd finished, Belle spoke up again.

"I haven't made much of an effort to spend a lot of time with you this week," she said. "Maybe on Saturday I could come over and we could, I don't know, play chess, watch a movie, just sit next to each other reading." She shrugged. It didn't matter what they did, just that they were together.

"Sounds wonderful," Rumplestiltskin said, paying the check. "Although I doubt you could beat me at chess. I'm quite the expert."

Belle pursed her lips. "Challenge accepted," she said competitively. "We'll see just who beats who when I come over on Saturday, shall we?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

Red strode by them, rolling her eyes. "I swear, someone needs to video record your conversations. We could make it into a sitcom. I would watch it every week."

"You basically already do," Belle reminded her. "We're in here at least weekly."

"Yeah," Red said with a sigh, pausing in her work, "But I get the feeling there's so much I miss. And you two are endlessly entertaining, especially when you're not trying to be."

"I hardly think—" Belle began, but Red wasn't finished.

"And if you were a sitcom, I could be the quirky best friend-slash-comic relief. You know, that one character who has terrible timing, always popping up at the most inopportune moments?" She looked quite pleased with that idea.

"Your timing is golden compared to Henry's," Rumplestiltskin said. Red quirked an eyebrow at Belle, who explained.

"He's constantly walking in on us in the library. Rum has a nasty habit of distracting me when I'm trying to work." She glared half-heartedly at Rumplestiltskin, who merely shrugged.

"I don't hear you complaining," he said smugly.

"Poor Henry," Red said, her face a picture of sympathy.

"Oh, it's never been a huge problem," Belle was quick to say. "Henry never fails to remind us that he spends a lot of time with Snow and Charming, who are quite possibly the most affectionate couple any world has ever known."

The diner's front door swung open. "Speak of the devil," Red joked as Snow and Charming entered the establishment hand-in-hand. Snow was the first to see them, and waved at Red. "Hello, Red. Hello, Belle." Her smile faded noticeably, and her voice turned to stone. "Hello, Rumplestiltskin."

Belle and Rumplestiltskin took that as their cue to leave.

"They seem to have strongly negative feelings for you," Belle observed, referring to Charming and Snow.

"I can't imagine why," Rumplestiltskin said. "If it weren't for me, they wouldn't even be together."

Belle grinned. "Are you telling me you played matchmaker?" Rumplestiltskin broke into a grin to match hers.

"I wish you'd been there," he said. "I daresay it was better than _Much Ado About Nothing_."

XXX

**_9 May_**

XXX

It was finally Friday. Belle danced into the library to find, of course, lilacs. She buried her nose in their petals and inhaled the heavenly scent. She loved lilacs.

"_Completed the rainbow at last_," she texted to Rumplestiltskin. "_They look lovely! –B_"

His reply was almost immediate:

"_Shame there aren't enough colors to last the week. –R_"

"_Doesn't matter, it was still a clever idea. And completely romantic. Makes me want to start gardening. –B_"

"_You never showed any talent for gardening when you were working for me in the Dark Castle. Not to mention I'm fairly certain you burnt my meals on purpose. –R_"

"_At least I didn't sit inside and spin all day. –B_"

"_I traveled. Made deals, wreaked havoc, created the most devastating curse our world had ever seen. –R_"

"_That's not something to be proud of. Besides, I would have loved to travel, if you'd have let me. –B_"

"_I did. In the end. And look how that worked out, hm? –R_"

"_And whose fault was that? –B_"

"_Regina's. Obviously. –R_"

"_Rumplestiltskin… –B_"

"_Fine. It was my fault. –R_"

"_Exactly how long are you going to use that against me? –R_"

"_Exactly forever. –B_"


	8. Getting Dirty

**This Year**

_A/N: I got rid of Belle's little journal entries at the start of each chapter. I've been having trouble coming up with them lately and they aren't too integral to the story. Now that the communication conflict has been resolved, Belle and Rumplestiltskin have another issue lurking on the horizon: incredible amounts of Unresolved Sexual Tension. Meanwhile, 3,000 words' worth of sunshine, flowers, bumblebees, and butterflies. Oh, and some unintended innuendo. Misunderstandings abound!_

XXX

**Spring**

**8: Getting Dirty**

XXX

_**7 May**_

XXX

She overslept that morning, slept right through her alarm.

It was no one's fault but her own; she never should have stayed up so late reading _A Tale of Two Cities_. Now she was going to be several hours late to Rumplestiltskin's, all because she had to see how Dickens's book ended.

It was already past noon, nearing two, by the time she'd gotten dressed and ready, making toast for a quick breakfast-slash-lunch. Still a little frazzled from sleeping late, she locked up her apartment behind her and descended the stairs outside.

It was a bright, sunny day. Puffy white clouds lazed across a powder blue sky. A gentle breeze teased the hem of Belle's knee-length floral dress. She paused on a street corner, throwing back her head and standing with outstretched arms, soaking up the sun that prickled her skin with its warmth.

Even the stress of oversleeping and arriving long after she'd intended to was not enough to dampen Belle's spirits today. The pavement beneath her sandal-clad feet was warm, the grass lining the streets was a dazzling green from all the late-April rain, and Belle was about to whoop Rumplestiltskin's butt in a game of chess. Everything was as it should be. She waved to Red as she passed the diner on her way.

Arriving at Rumplestiltskin's house, Belle took the stairs at a brisk, bouncy pace and flounced up to the door to ring the doorbell. Straining her ears, she could hear the resounding _ding-dong_ echo through the spacious dwelling. Seconds passed, and not a sound could be heard from within the house. The lights were all off, the windows dark. Belle crinkled her brow. Where could he be?

On the off chance that Rumplestiltskin was in and simply hadn't heard the first time, Belle rang again. Waited. Rang a third time. Waited.

It appeared no one was home.

Only then did Belle remember the clever little device in her cute red purse. She really wasn't used to this whole cell phone thing. Nevertheless, she withdrew her iPhone from her bag and dialed Rumplestiltskin's mobile number. After several torturous rings, it went to voicemail.

"_You've reached Robert Gold. Leave a message._"

But if he wasn't in his house – she called his home phone, just to be sure, only to receive the same results: "_You've reached Robert Gold. Leave a message._" – and he wasn't picking up his phone, then where could he be?

A number of possibilities occurred to her, each more unlikely than the last, until she at last resolved to walk around back and see if he wasn't outdoors.

Having never been in Rumplestiltskin's backyard, Belle didn't know if there was anything there. For all she knew, he had an outdoor Olympic-sized swimming pool, or a gazebo, or a koi fish pond.

Trekking through untamed bushes at the side of the house, however, Belle caught her first glance of the backyard and found it was nowhere near so impressive as her ridiculous imaginings. Instead, it was a simple fenced-off lawn with a single large, shady oak tree shedding leaves across a modestly sized expanse of crisp, green, well-tended grass. Belle surveyed the area, stepping fully into the backyard. She turned to face the back of the house.

Oh wow.

A semicircular plot of earth had been set apart as a garden, and it was perhaps the most beautiful sight Belle had ever seen. Flowers of every color and variety sprung up from every square inch of it. Butterflies floated past, fluttering straight over Belle's head. A bumblebee buzzed past her ear. Belle gaped. This, this garden, it was absolutely picturesque.

Had Rumplestiltskin done all this? She couldn't believe that. Learning Rumplestiltskin was a decent cook was one thing. Trying to picture him toiling in a garden?

But she didn't need to picture it, because there he was. Even more astonishing than the colorful expanse of flowers and flower-loving insects, was the man kneeling amid it all, yanking at a stubborn weed.

It was the first time Belle had seen Rumplestiltskin not looking dignified, dashing, put-together, and professional. Granted, he still wore a collared shirt and slacks, but the transformation was still plainly evident. He crouched with his knees sinking into the dirt, trousers stained with streaks of grassy greens, browns, and yellows. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his forearms caked in soil, his gardening gloves stained and worn. The top button of his shirt was left undone to give him room to breathe, and all in all Belle was acutely aware that she had never been so attracted to a man in her entire life.

Wow.

After observing quietly in shock and awe for quite some time, Belle realized it was rude and creepy of her not to make her presence known. She took a step towards Rumplestiltskin's kneeling figure and gently cleared her throat.

"Wow." It was truly all she could manage. (She got the feeling, "Can I shag you in the middle of your garden?" would be a little inappropriate.)

Rumplestiltskin whipped his head around, startled. Belle always enjoyed catching him off guard, being that it was such a rare occurrence with this man who was prepared for almost anything.

"Belle!" he exclaimed, just as the weed he'd been tugging at came free in his hands. He tossed it aside, slipped off his gloves, and struggled to his feet, dusting his hands on his trousers and offering a ragged smile. "I didn't hear you coming."

"I rang your doorbell and called you but you didn't answer, so I figured I'd come looking," Belle explained, walking past Rumplestiltskin to stand above the garden, eyes wide painstakingly committing every detail of the garden to memory.

"Rumplestiltskin, this is beautiful," she said sincerely, looking at him over her shoulder. "How long…?" She trailed off, but he caught her drift.

"Nearly the whole time I've been here," he answered with a one-shouldered shrug. "Helps me forget."

Belle grinned. "Forget what?"

Rumplestiltskin looked askance at her and smirked. "I guess it worked."

At this, Belle laughed out loud, returning her attention to the garden.

"This is fantastic," she said, crouching in front of a tulip and gently touching its soft petals. "This… wow. And you…" She stood up again abruptly, turning to face him, gesturing at his entirety and taking him in. "You look…"

"Dirty? Sweaty? Disgusting? Gross?" he ventured. Belle shook her head and took a step towards him, wrapping her bare arms around his neck and grinning up at him.

"You look handsome."

Rumplestiltskin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm covered in dirt."

Belle kissed him. "Yes you are," she muttered against his mouth when they briefly surfaced for air before melding their mouths together again, Rumplestiltskin's hands going straight for Belle's hips to hold her close against him. He even _tasted_ like the outdoors, like clean air and the smell of freshly mown grass.

Abruptly, Belle broke away, an idea blossoming in her mind. She turned to the vibrant array of flowers and knelt down in the grass, beckoning for him to do the same. A honeybee buzzed around her head; unafraid, Belle blew gently in its direction and it flew away.

Returning her attention to Rumplestiltskin, Belle placed her hands just above his knees, leaning towards him. He reached forward and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, a subtly intimate gesture. His warm touch lingered and his finger gently stroked across her cheek as he withdrew his hand. Belle flushed, briefly lowering her eyes.

"Tell me about the flowers you have here," she requested.

"You seem like the type who'd be able to identify them all on your own," Rumplestiltskin observed.

"And you seem like the type who wouldn't be into gardening, so I guess we're both wrong. My father may be a florist in this world, but I only ever knew him as a king. Everything I know about flowers, I read in books." She twisted to face the garden. "So tell me about them."

After only a brief pause, Rumplestiltskin relented, also turning to fully face the garden and pointing out the flowers one by one.

"I'm sure you recognize the red poppies," he began. "They have negative connotations here and in the old world; they're associated with war. But I've never set much stock in floriography."

Belle nodded absently, only vaguely registering Rumplestiltskin's words, mostly listening to the rumble of his voice, lilting up and down. She could lose herself in that voice.

"—And these are the marigolds I gave you on Monday, and the daffodils from Tuesday. Red, white, yellow, and green carnations. Morning glories, asters, peonies, irises near the back, Black-eyed Susans… The lilacs are all along the side of the house."

Belle sighed, lying down on the grass, hands behind her head and eyes fluttering shut. She urged Rumplestiltskin to continue. "Keep talking. I'm listening."

Rumplestiltskin drew nearer to lay beside her and look up at the sky, awash with blue and playing host to several marshmallow clouds.

"There isn't much else to tell," he admitted, reaching out to take her hands. Their shoulders were touching.

"What's your favorite flower, then?" she asked. She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered.

"Bluebells."

The pun was not lost on her. "You are such a sap."

XXX

He had no idea how long he'd been here, laying wordlessly in the lush green grass, fingers entwined with Belle's. An hour? Two? He opened his eyes; the sun was already nearing the horizon. He must have dozed off; he couldn't remember so much time passing.

Glancing down, Rumplestiltskin unobtrusively turned to look at the woman beside him. From his current position, he had a lovely view of his profile. Her hair was splayed out behind her. The gentle slope of her forehead dipped down towards her peacefully closed eyes, rimmed with long dark lashes. Her nose silently inhaled and exhaled the warm spring air, the sweet floral aroma from the garden; her lips were pink and full and kissable.

Belle's chin descended into the column of her neck, also tantalizingly kissable, to the small mounds of her breasts, which he wasn't even going to think about.

Rumplestiltskin froze, not daring to move, his gaze fixed on Belle's stomach, rising and falling with her breathing. A tiger swallowtail butterfly had made a perch of Belle's stomach, and Rumplestiltskin didn't want to scare it off. Slowly, he released Belle's hand and propped himself up with one arm, extending the other arm towards the delicate creature. His finger brushed against Belle's stomach, and the butterfly climbed onto it, its wings slowly opening and closing as it explored its new territory.

With the utmost care, Rumplestiltskin brought his butterfly-carrying finger up next to Belle's face. Just as Rumplestiltskin had been planning, the butterfly left his finger to perch on the tip of Belle's nose. As he withdrew his hand, he took the liberty of gently stroking it across her cheek.

A smile played across Belle's lips. Her eyes fluttered open and—

"AUGH!" The first thing she opened her eyes to was an enormous butterfly right in front of her, staring down her nose. Belle screamed and shot up into a seated position, wide-eyed and startled, and the butterfly flew away, over the fence and out of sight.

Rumplestiltskin burst out laughing, louder and harder than he could ever remember laughing. Belle glared.

"You put a butterfly on my nose!" she accused. He continued to laugh.

"Yes, and it was even better than I expected!" He clutched his stomach. "You should have seen your face!"

Belle shoved him. "That is not funny!"

"Come on," Rumplestiltskin said. "It was _hilarious_."

"Hmph." Belle huffed, lying down beside him once more. It was clear she was having a difficult time of staying mad at him. "Remind me again why I put up with you?" They were lying on their sides, facing each other; Rumplestiltskin slid an arm around her waist, tugging her nearer and placing a kiss on her lips.

"I don't actually know," he admitted.

Belle shoved his shoulder in retaliation, and he landed on his back with a huff. She rolled over so she was hovering over him on her elbows and knees, legs straddling his and lips pursed. Undeterred, and more than a little aroused, Rumplestiltskin continued to grin up at her.

"It's probably the voice," she concluded, putting on a thoughtful expression. "You know I love it."

He raised an eyebrow and deliberately thickened his accent. "Is that so, dearie?" One hand drifted up to ghost across her side, and Belle's eyelids fluttered. She tangled her hands in the grass and his hair.

"Yep, that's the one." Eagerly, Belle descended on Rumplestiltskin, kissing him. He reciprocated with equal enthusiasm, propping himself up on his elbows to reach her. She hummed into his mouth, pressing her hips flush against his…

He shoved her off of him. Belle landed on the ground on her butt, looking bemused. "What was that for?" she demanded.

Rumplestiltskin got to his feet, finding his cane in the grass. "I haven't schooled you in chess yet," he reminded her. Belle's face transformed into an expression of determination as she too stood.

"And you never will," she assured him, motioning for them to go inside. He led her in through the back door, sliding it shut behind them as they trekked upstairs.

Belle looked down at herself. "Ugh, I am filthy," she said. Indeed, her bare arms and legs, and even her dress, were covered in streaks of green and brown, and the two of them smelled pretty outdoorsy. "Mind if I use your shower?"

"I could probably use a shower too," Rumplestiltskin said, then quickly stammered to add, "So you can, er, use the one in the—"

"Guest room," Belle finished, blushing at the unspoken alternative. "Right. And you'll—"

"Be in my bathroom," he said with a nod as they ascended to the top floor bedrooms. "And we'll meet in the kitchen in… um…"

"Fifteen minutes?" Belle suggested.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Good. Okay. Have a nice… er…"

"Yeah."

Their faces matching shades of red, the two of them went their separate ways, each mentally cursing themselves for being such a bumbling idiot.

XXX

After a long, hot shower, Rumplestiltskin was drying his hair when he heard Belle's voice from across the hall.

"Um, Rumplestiltskin?" she called. He dropped the towel in his hands on the floor, walked out of his steaming bathroom, and peeked out the door of his bedroom.

Belle was standing in the hallway, wrapped in a fluffy white towel that barely covered her. She clutched it in front of her chest, her face the reddest he'd ever seen it. Rivulets of water ran down her creamy skin and damp, dripping hair, forming puddles around her feet.

"W-what?" Rumplestiltskin managed. He commended himself for actually being able to speak as opposed to… well, any number of alternatives. Choking. Dying. Ripping off that towel and having his way with her. He knew he should avert his eyes, but he couldn't stop _staring_.

This was the most of her he'd ever seen.

"I, um…" Belle's eyes kept darting up to his face, then refocusing on the floor at her feet, and Rumplestiltskin became acutely aware of his own state of dress. When Belle had called to him, he'd still been in the process of getting dressed. As such, he was standing in full view of her, shirtless and with his trousers undone.

_Damnit._

"I took my clothes out of the guest room the other day," she reminded him, her gaze sliding up to look at him, "So I, um, don't have anything to wear." She was quick to add, "I-I mean, my… underthings… aren't dirty but… my dress smells like the outdoors. It's kind of gross."

"Oh, right, of course." Rumplestiltskin stepped into his room, beckoning for her to follow. She timidly stepped inside, standing by the doorway like a jumpy rabbit that would bound off at the slightest disturbance. Rumplestiltskin quickly did up and belted his trousers, venturing into his closet for something Belle could wear.

"Here." He handed her a shirt that he was convinced would sufficiently cover her and fetching one for himself, deftly doing up the buttons. Belle took the shirt in one hand, still grasping her towel with the other.

"Thanks. I'll just—"

"Yeah."

Once they were both dressed and downstairs, Belle perched on one of the armchairs in the sitting room, situating a table between the two chairs. Rumplestiltskin brought over the chess set and asked if she was hungry.

"Starving, actually. I haven't eaten anything today but a bite of toast," she admitted. "Could we order in?"

"Pizza, then?" Rumplestiltskin suggested. Belle nodded. "In that case, I'll be right back."

While Rumplestiltskin was in the other room on the phone, Belle set up the chessboard. She crossed her legs, feeling self-conscious about the shirt she wore that barely reached her thighs. Her hair was still damp, hanging limply across her shoulders.

When Rumplestiltskin returned, he noted her discomfort and leaned down to kiss her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder for balance. "You look beautiful, love," he assured her. Belle smiled.

"Thanks. But I still won't go easy on you," she said, gesturing to the now set-up chessboard. Rumplestiltskin winked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He took a seat. "The pizza should be here in about fifteen minutes."

Rumplestiltskin had the first move. The game began.

As it turned out, their strategies were about as drastically different as they were. Rumplestiltskin was quick and conniving, thinking ten steps ahead and anticipating Belle's every move. She could practically hear the machinery of his mind whirring as he made each deliberate move, raising a challenging eyebrow at her as soon as he did.

Belle, meanwhile, was careful and calculating, taking her time with each turn and probably driving Rumplestiltskin mad with impatience. She could tell by the way he drummed his fingers on the table.

It was during one of her turns that the doorbell rang. Belle shot to her feet. "Belle—" Rumplestiltskin started to stand, but Belle cut him off.

"No, you stay put," she ordered. "I'll get the door. You were kneeling in the grass all morning; I imagine your knee hurts."

Resigned to the fact that it was no use arguing with her in such trivial matters, Rumplestiltskin reclined in his chair and waved a hand in acquiescence. "My wallet's in my coat pocket."

Belle fished the wallet out of the pocket of Rumplestiltskin's coat on the hook by the door and opened the door. "Hello—oh! Red! What are you doing here?"

Instead of the pizza deliveryman, Red was standing on the doorstep, holding out a familiar black object.

"Uhh," Red said, looking Belle up and down and raising one eyebrow. "You left your wallet at the diner yesterday. It was stuck between the seat cushions. Snow found it today during lunch. You weren't in your apartment, so I figured you'd be here." She paused. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No, not at all," Belle said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's a good thing you didn't come earlier, though; we wouldn't have been able to answer the door." She gave a smile. Red gaped, though Belle had no idea what had her so taken aback.

"Thank you, by the way, for bringing this," Belle said sincerely, since Red was seemingly having trouble getting her words out. "I was wondering where I'd left it." She gestured back into the house. "Would you care for a spot of tea before you go?"

"N-No thanks," Red stammered, straining her neck to look over Belle's shoulder into the house. "Say, is Rumplestiltskin there?"

"Yes," Belle said slowly, and a bit suspiciously. "He's just resting his leg. Are you sure there isn't anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah, no, I'm good," Red said. She paused again. "Actually, I was wondering… Were you… You weren't wearing that earlier." She gestured to Rumplestiltskin's shirt.

"Hm? Oh!" Belle had completely forgotten she wasn't properly dressed. "No, I wasn't. My dress got ruined – we both got pretty dirty – and I didn't bring a change of clothes."

Red's eyes were practically bulging. What was with her today? "Yeah. Uh-huh. Wh… What are the two of you doing?"

"Just waiting for the pizza we ordered to get here," Belle said casually. "I haven't eaten in hours, and Rum probably worked up quite an appetite." He'd looked like he'd been working pretty hard in his garden when she'd arrived.

Red blinked. "Yeah, okay," she said, shouldering her purse and starting down the stairs to the sidewalk. "I should be getting back now," she said over her shoulder. "I'll see you later." Her face had transformed from the weird expression of shock she'd been wearing to an equally perplexing mix of realization, private humor, and the trademark look she wore when she was bursting with gossip to tell someone. Belle filed away the details of this peculiar encounter for later consideration; at the present moment, it seemed Red was in sort of a hurry to leave.

"I'll see you for lunch tomorrow," she said as Red headed down the sidewalk.

"Yuh-huh, probably," Red said, turning onto the street.

"Bye, then!"

"Bye!" Red called, snickering and giving a little wave. "Have fun—I mean… Yeah, bye!"

Belle scrunched up her nose. That was so weird…

XXX

_**To be continued…**_


	9. Rumor Has It

**This Year**

_A/N: Rumplestiltskin experiences a hollow victory, Red mentally scars three of her four closest girlfriends, Henry learns a new word, and Belle just wants a little intimacy. Surely this can only lead to disaster and hilarity._

XXX

**Spring**

**9: Rumor Has It**

XXX

_**10 May**_

XXX

"Belle. Love. It's your turn."

"Hm?" The sound of Rumplestiltskin's voice jolted Belle out of her reverie. Ever since answering the door, she'd been trying to figure out what Red could possibly have been thinking during their conversation. Because of her distraction, Belle's chess game was not up to par, and she kept losing pieces to Rumplestiltskin through her own foolish mistakes and oversights.

"It's your turn," Rumplestiltskin repeated, gesturing towards the board.

"Oh." Belle moved her bishop. Rumplestiltskin shook her head, and his castle took her remaining knight.

Belle reviewed her conversation with Red in her head for what seemed like the millionth time, but still nothing stood out. By now she had determined that some sort of miscommunication must have occurred. She considered the possible implications of what she'd said and done.

First, she had arrived at the door wearing Rumplestiltskin's shirt. In itself the action seemed harmless. She saw Emma wearing Graham's jacket all the time and no one thought anything of it. Red then gave Belle her wallet and asked if she was "interrupting something." Interrupting what? She hadn't specified. Belle thought of past incidents when Red had used that selfsame phrase.

When she caught Belle and Rumplestiltskin kissing in the diner: "Am I interrupting something?" When they spoke in low voices with their heads together: "Am I interrupting something?" When Rumplestiltskin placed his hand on Belle's knee underneath the table, and throughout the meal it slid gradually, unintentionally up her thigh, so that by the time Red came by with the check, Belle was blushing crimson: "Am I interrupting something?" Always spoken with a hint of amusement.

Next, Belle had told Red it was glad she didn't come earlier, as they wouldn't have answered the door. She didn't mention it was because they'd been in the backyard. At the time it hadn't seemed necessary to do so.

Belle mulled over the rest of what she'd said to Red: "_He's just resting his leg. My dress got ruined. We got pretty dirty. I didn't bring a change of clothes. I haven't eaten in hours. Rum's probably worked up quite an—_"

"Wait," Belle said aloud, eyes widening. She backed up her train of thought.

"_We got pretty dirty._"

…Oh.

Across the table, Rumplestiltskin was staring expectantly at Belle, hand hovering over his queen, waiting for her to say something more. When she didn't, because her mind was still whirring from this startling realization, he slid his queen across the board and in one fell swoop, took out Belle's king.

"Checkmate."

Belle didn't even hear him. She shot to her feet, found her purse sitting on the kitchen table by the empty pizza box, and rifled around for her phone, muttering a string of entirely un-princess-like curses. With fumbling fingers, she dialed Red's number.

"_You've reached Ruby Lucas. I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks! Have a great day!_"

Not bothering to wait for the beep, Red ended the call, turning to Rumplestiltskin, who was still sitting in his armchair. He regarded her like she'd gone mad. Belle realized belatedly that her behavior must seem to him more than a little unprecedented.

"Rumplestiltskin," she said grimly, wringing her hands, "I think I may have unintentionally led Red to believe you and I spent all day having intense, kinky sex with one another."

There was a lengthy pause. Rumplestiltskin pointed wordlessly to her toppled white king. "I just won," he reminded her, clearly unsatisfied with her complete disregard of his victory.

Belle's mouth hung open. She threw her arms out. "Are you even _listening _to me? _Red thinks we're shagging._"

Now she certainly had his attention. His eyebrows rose and his tone took on a calm, reasonable quality, and he turned in his chair to face her full-on. "Hasn't she thought so all along?" he asked.

"No," Belle said, "I've been _very clear_ that you and I haven't gotten that far in our relationship. But now she shows up at your house, and I say… certain things that can be easily misconstrued…"

"And you were wearing my shirt…" he added thoughtfully as it dawned on him how this must have seemed to Red.

"Knowing Red, the whole town will have heard about it by tomorrow!" Belle threw her head back and groaned, her face in her hands. "They already think I'm a gold-digger—"

"Interesting choice of words," Rumplestiltskin muttered. Belle narrowed her eyes. "Sorry, sorry." He laid off the irony and approached the situation with a bit more tact. "What exactly did you say to her?"

"That I hadn't eaten in hours and you'd worked up quite an appetite."

He shrugged. "That's not too incrimin—"

"That my dress got ruined and I didn't bring a change of clothes."

"Alright, I see how that could be—"

"That you were resting your leg."

Rumplestiltskin glanced down at his cane. "I feel like I should be insulted."

"That we, and I quote, '_got pretty dirty_.'"

At that, Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows shot up. "Ah," he said simply, leaning back and steepling his fingers. "That was probably a poor choice of words."

XXX

"Emma! Ella! Snow! You're here!"

Red burst into the diner to find her three closest girlfriends, excluding Belle, all sitting at a booth waiting for her after she'd sent them all frantic, all-caps text messages. She slid into the empty seat next to Ella. Snow had a look of queenly concern on her face.

"Red, what's happened?"

Red slapped her palms down on the table and said, in the loudest whisper any of them had ever heard, "Guys, you'll never believe what I just discovered." Her face was contorted into a wicked grin, which, to be fair, could mean any number of things, coming from Red.

"If this is another dead thing you found in the woods during one of your canine adventures, I don't want to know," Emma said flatly.

Unable to contain it any longer, Red's secret burst out of her: "Belle and Rumplestiltskin are sleeping together!"

Emma choked on the air she was breathing. "WHAT?!" she spluttered. "Why?! Does she owe him something? Because I can probably arrest him for that."

"Emma!" Snow scolded. "They _are_ in a relationship. It's none of our business what they do."

The other three girls ignored Snow. Even Ella was leaning forward with her elbows on the table, drinking in this scandalous gossip. Snow sighed in disappointment. Perhaps it was because she'd been on the receiving end of some pretty nasty rumors that she was loath to take any part in the local grapevine.

"From what I gathered, she's doing it of her own free will," Red ventured, lowering her voice. "I think… I think she _likes_ it."

"Shut your mouth," Ella said.

"That's just wrong," Emma agreed. She grimaced and shook her head.

"Now, let's be reasonable," Snow said in an effort to calm everyone down. "Belle grew up in the old world, where it was shameful for a girl to have sex outside of marriage, _especially_ a royal. I doubt she'd be so quick to jump into bed with a man twice her age, with that sort of upbringing."

"_Quick_?" Red repeated. "They've been together a year!"

"Did you and Charming wait till marriage?" Ella asked Snow innocently. Snow's mouth clamped shut.

"Um."

"YOU DIDN'T!" Emma shouted, laughing. Snow glared.

"I am _not_ talking about my sex life to my _daughter_," she protested.

"Too late," Emma said with a shrug. "Should've thought of that before you told me about your one-night stand with Whale."

"I didn't know you were my—"

"You had a one-night stand with _Whale_?" Red exclaimed in disbelief.

"EXCUSE ME!" Snow shouted, silencing everyone instantly. Emma and Red sat back down with their hands clasped in their laps, looking like chastised children. "Like I was saying, Red, you can't go around telling people Belle and Rumplestiltskin are sleeping together, especially without being sure of it. Did you actually see or hear anything?"

Red drew in a deep breath to tell the tale. "Okay, so I was returning Belle's wallet, that you found earlier today."

Snow nodded. "I remember."

"She wasn't home, so I went to Rumplestiltskin's, because I figured she'd be pretty worried about her wallet missing and would want it back as soon as possible."

"Understandable."

"I rang the doorbell, and Belle answered… _wearing Rumplestiltskin's shirt_." She paused, probably for effect.

Snow was unimpressed. "So? I wear Charming's shirts all the time around the house."

"Yeah," Emma said, "And he's your husband. Red has a point. But it could mean nothing at all. Men's clothes are comfier than most of what women wear."

"I think what Red meant," Ella said, "Was that Belle was dressed in _only_ his shirt."

Red nodded. Emma's eyebrows shot up. "Ah. Okay. That changes things."

"She said her dress was ruined," Red added.

"What did he do, rip it off her?" Emma exclaimed.

"Her exact words were, 'We both got pretty dirty.'" Red crossed her arms over her chest in self-satisfaction, thinking she had conclusively proved her point. Emma gagged.

"Calm down," Snow said. "Let's not jump to conclusions. We could be misreading the situation. What else happened?"

"Well, I asked her what the two of them were doing—" Red continued.

"Oh geez," Emma said.

"—And she said he was 'resting his leg' while they both waited for pizza delivery. She said he'd 'worked up quite an appetite.'"

Ella nodded conclusively. "They're definitely sleeping together."

Emma, meanwhile, had fixated on a particular detail. "Resting his _leg_?" she repeated incredulously. "Holy crap, how hard did they—?"

"EMMA!" Snow cut her off. "That's not an image I want in my head!"

Red leaned back and gave them all a pointed look. "So? Pretty irrefutable, huh?" she smugly said.

"I'll concede that it's _possible_," Snow said reluctantly. "But don't you go spreading this around to the whole town," she ordered, jabbing a finger at Red.

"What're you looking at me for?!" Red asked defensively.

"I know you, Red," Snow said. "And I'm warning you, _don't_ go around telling everyone."

Red nodded convincingly and made a lip-zipping motion. "I won't tell a soul."

XXX

_**11 May**_

XXX

"Belle, what does 'shag' mean?"

Belle choked on the tea she was drinking, eyes bulging. She gaped at the innocent young face of her favorite eleven-year-old, sitting at the table nearest to the librarian's desk, reading the latest James Dashner novel.

"Where on earth did you hear that word?" Belle demanded, setting aside what she was doing and walking over to sit next to Henry at the table. Henry shrugged.

"I heard Dr. Whale say it today. He said, 'Why is it that I can't get any action, while cranky old Rumplestiltskin is shagging one of the hottest women in town?"

Belle was at a loss for words. She wouldn't put it past Whale to say a thing like that, but how could he have been so careless as to let _Henry_ hear?

Incredible. It had only been last night that Red had mistakenly walked away thinking Belle was sleeping with Rumplestiltskin, and the rumors had already reached _Henry's_ ears? This was a nightmare!

"It's not really an appropriate word, Henry," she said carefully.

"I figured," he said with a nod of understanding. "That's why I asked you instead of my mom. She'd probably arrest Dr. Whale for saying it in front of me. But what does it mean?"

"I—" What was she supposed to do? Belle certainly couldn't tell him the truth – Emma would skin her alive – but she couldn't lie, not to Henry. So for the longest time she just sat there with her mouth hanging open, at a loss for words.

"It's about sex, isn't it?" Henry asked matter-of-factly.

What the _hell_? "How do you know—?"

"Belle." Henry leveled her with his characteristic, don't-be-ridiculous, patronizing, narrow-eyed look. "I'm eleven. I know about sex."

She honestly had no idea what to say. Henry's nose crinkled in curiosity.

"So is that what everyone's been talking about?" he asked. "I've been hearing things about you and Mr. Gold, but everyone gets all quiet whenever I'm nearby."

"Well it's not appropriate to talk about… that sort of thing… in front of children," Belle said. Henry pouted and scuffed his shoes.

"No one tells me anything," he complained. "I don't understand what's going on. _Did_ you and Mr. Gold have sex?"

"No!" Belle exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly. She then calmed herself down a bit; no need to make Henry feel bad. "I'm sorry, Henry, that's just not the sort of thing you can just… ask people."

"I'm sorry," he said with genuine regret. "I didn't know. I just see you two kissing all the time, and then with what everyone's been saying…"

"We're in love, Henry," she explained, trying to sound patient but coming across as exasperated. She ran a hand along her forehead and through her long hair. "But not…" She sighed. "Just because two people are in love, doesn't mean they _have_ to… you know." Shouldn't this kid's mother be having this conversation with him? "You wait until you're both ready. I'm sure your mom taught you about this."

"Snow did," Henry said, "When Emma wouldn't. But Emma thinks I still don't know. She's still getting used to the whole 'mom' thing."

"I'm sure she's just doing what she thinks is best," Belle said. She paused, looking down at her hands and then back at Henry. "I don't know, Henry. Can we not talk about this?"

Belle stood up and wandered off to go die of embarrassment in a corner.

XXX

"Ask me how my day was," Belle prompted that evening at dinner with Rumplestiltskin. He obeyed instantly, without question or complaint.

"How was your day?"

"Today Henry asked me if you and I are having sex."

Rumplestiltskin choked and spluttered on his food, washing it down desperately with a long drink of water. "Are you serious? _Henry_?"

"Yes," Belle said. "Apparently Red is a better gossip than we give her credit for. It's practically a superpower."

"_Henry_ asked if we were having _sex_?" Rumplestiltskin repeated. It was probably a good thing they were at his house as opposed to out at a restaurant, because in his shock, Rumplestiltskin's volume control just went out the window.

"It was okay when Archie came up out of the blue and asked how you and I are doing in our relationship," Belle said, ignoring Rumplestiltskin's outburst. "He's a psychiatrist; when he asks, it comes across as professional instead of creepy. And I was fine when Emma not-so-subtly hinted that if I was at all being 'taken advantage of,' she would be happy to arrest you, no questions asked. Snow keeps asking me 'if I'm okay,' and Charming can't even look me in the eye anymore."

"Belle, you know if anyone's making you upset—"

"No, Rumplestiltskin, really, it's okay—" she began quickly, because she did _not_ need a repeat of what she'd heard Rumplestiltskin did to her father. If another person was hospitalized because of him, Belle got the feeling no amount of appealing to her better nature would convince her not to lock Rumplestiltskin up and throw away the key.

"I mean it, Belle," Rumplestiltskin nevertheless persisted. "If anyone's treating you disrespectfully—"

"NO," she commanded, taking his hand firmly in hers. "I don't want you to get into any trouble just because of a little rumor. You think I can't handle people whispering about me behind my back? I was an introverted Crown Princess who preferred the company of books to people. And then when I came back I was the Dark One's whore. They thought I was pregnant with your bastard child. Trust me when I say I've been through worse than a harmless little rumor about my sex life. If anything, I'm upset Henry had to hear it."

"Belle, I—"

She was out of words to cut him off with, so instead she leaned over the table and pressed her mouth to his. "Shh," she told him. "Finish eating.

Thoroughly distracted, Rumplestiltskin set down his fork and knife and focused his gaze on Belle's lips. "I'm not hungry," he said breathlessly, intent on his purpose. Belle smirked, cleared their dishes, and when she walked past him, bent down to kiss him again, lingering a few extra seconds, just long enough to leave him wanting more. She drew her mouth away slowly, so that he followed her desperately, drawn to her like a magnet.

"I'm not finished," he murmured huskily, standing with her and recapturing her mouth, hands gripping her hips and pressing her against him.

"Take your time," she invited as he kissed her neck, movements slow and leisurely until he'd had his fill and stepped back, hands reluctantly slipping off of her as he retreated to the living room. His own imagined "boundaries" would not allow him to go much further with her, she knew. Unless of course she could find a way to first wear down his defenses without him realizing…

Nerves still buzzing from the sensation, Belle followed in a trance, sitting beside Rumplestiltskin on the sofa. Her dreamlike state was only interrupted by a spark of inspiration. Her eyes lit up with mischief. Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult to get Rumplestiltskin to lower his defenses, if she did it carefully enough.

A metaphor she remembered reading in a book once came to her mind. If you put a frog in boiling water, it will immediately hop out. But if you put a frog in tepid water and slowly heat the water, the frog will remain until it's boiled alive.

Obviously her intentions with Rumplestiltskin were nowhere near so sinister, but the point still stood. If she threw herself at Rumplestiltskin, he'd freak out and raise up his defenses against her again. But if she slowly changed the dynamic of their relationship, he wouldn't realize anything was happening until it was too late for him to stop it from happening.

After all, despite her inexperience in the field of intimacy – the closest thing she'd ever had to a relationship was her arranged proposal to Gaston – she'd read enough books to know what she wanted. And Belle was the sort of girl who always went after what she wanted, and got it.


	10. Double Date

**This Year**

_A/N: In our very last "Spring" chapter, we explore the languages of food, wine, and love. Red Cricket is a big secondary ship here, but it doesn't really focus on them, out of consideration for those of you who might have different ships in your armada. Also, I promise the Rumbelle UST will soon be resolved. For now, I'm having a really fun time torturing Belle by dragging it out. Please alert me to any errors in this chapter; it's unedited._

XXX

**Spring**

**10: Double Date**

XXX

_**19 May**_

XXX

"I feel really bad about what I did. I never should have told anyone. It's your business what you do. Can you forgive me?"

It had been a week since Red had let slip her little – apparently untrue (oops) – secret about Belle and Rumplestiltskin. The diner was in a lull between lunch and dinner. Red was wiping down tables and Belle was sitting at the counter observing her. The discussion had turned to the topic of the rumors that were still circulating about Belle, courtesy of Little Miss Town Gossip herself. Red actually felt pretty bad about what she'd done to Belle, and the guilt had been gnawing at her insides until she finally just _had_ to do something about it.

"Hm…" Belle pretended to consider it, although both of them knew she had already forgiven Red, and never really blamed her in the first place.

"Please?" Red nonetheless pleaded. Belle raised one eyebrow skeptically.

"I don't know if I'm convinced of your sincerity," she said in a tone that was annoyingly reminiscent of Rumplestiltskin's deal-making voice. Red narrowed her eyes.

"Damnit, Belle, that man is having a terrible influence on you."

"Yes, I've told him that," Belle said. "But seriously, I do have an idea of how you can prove how sorry you are."

Red sighed. Whatever Belle came up with was certain to be all kinds of unbearable. "What's that?"

"Go on a double date with us."

A double date? With Belle and… _Rumplestiltskin_? The idea was actually laughable.

"Absolutely not."

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Somehow Red highly doubted that.

"Nope," she said. "Not gonna happen. Besides, I don't even have a boyfriend, so I don't see how I can—"

Belle cut her off when the door to the diner swung open. The part-time librarian broke into a wicked grin, and Red had definitive proof that, yup, Rumplestiltskin was _definitely_ rubbing off on her. "Hey there, Archie!"

"No, Belle, don't you dare—" She wouldn't dare.

"Red has something to ask you, Archie!"

…Okay, apparently she would.

Red's eyes widened as Archie turned to her with expectant eyes, and she felt a little flutter in her stomach. She ducked her head down to hide her growing blush and scrubbed at the counter with renewed vigor.

"I was just wondering if you're free Friday," she muttered quickly, because she knew Belle wouldn't let up until she did. Belle might even ask Archie for her, which was sure to be humiliating on every possible level. Archie tilted his head, unable to make out what she'd said, and leaned closer to her. Red's blush deepened.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," he said with an encouraging smile. Red gritted her teeth, met his eyes, and asked, perhaps a bit too loudly:

"Are you free Friday?"

XXX

_**23 May**_

XXX

"Rum, you _have_ to go!" Belle protested, trailing after Rumplestiltskin as he crossed the pawnshop to the front counter, tidying the general area in preparation for closing up shop. "I already made dinner reservations!"

He didn't look at her, not even a glance, as he burst through the front door, locking it behind her when she followed. He really hadn't taken the news of their impending double date well; Belle was afraid she'd really angered him by making this commitment without first consulting with him, but she knew he never would have given his consent. She sighed loudly to get his attention – he'd barely _looked_ at her since she arrived to tell him about their date that was in, well, an hour – but he just kept walking, at an impressive speed, all things considered.

"I don't care if you arranged for us to eat dinner with the President on the White House grounds; I'm not going," he persisted. Belle glared.

"You're acting like a child," she said. Her insult fell on deaf ears; she sighed again and tried a different approach, switching into a sultry tone of voice that he _couldn't _say no to.

"But Rum," she said, smirking triumphantly when he came to a dead stop in front of her. She ground to a halt as well, close behind him, smoothing out the skirt of her brand-new dress. "I bought a new dress just for the occasion."

'_Three. Two. One…_'

He turned, right on cue, and his eyebrows shot up appreciatively. His eyes raked up and down, taking her in.

Belle knew _exactly_ how good she looked in this dress. Red had helped her pick it out when they'd gone shopping together, and it was _perfect_. The golden-yellow pullover dress had a cinched elastic waist and ruffle sleeves, and draped over her in silky ripples. She twisted back and forth slightly so the fabric twirled around her hips and gazed innocently up at Rumplestiltskin through her lashes.

"What do you think?" she purred. Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth as if to answer, but took a moment in gathering his words.

"You look—" He began, but cut off abruptly when his voice came out about an octave higher than he'd intended. He actually sounded a little like his old Dark One self, but he cleared his throat and his voice went back to normal. "You look stunning." He took one of her hands in his, holding it over his head so she could twirl slowly in front of him. "I like the color," he observed with a wink.

"So you'll go?" Belle ventured, coming to a stop and sliding her arms around him, tipping forward on her heeled shoes – also new – to lean into him.

Rumplestiltskin seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of this decision. On the one hand, he would be going out in public, on a date, which would mean showing his affection for Belle publicly, which they both knew – though neither of them ever acknowledged it – made him uncomfortable. He wasn't a very public lover. That was okay. But Belle just wanted to see if perhaps, with a push in the right direction, he _could_ be.

Going with Belle would also entail polite interaction with others, which, as everyone in Storybrooke knew, was not Rumplestiltskin's strong suit. At all.

On the other hand, of course, agreeing to the date would mean an entire night with Belle… in that dress… and Belle could see it in his eyes when he made his choice. He took her hand in his and gestured to the stretch of sidewalk before them.

"Lead the way."

XXX

They met with Red and Archie at an expensive restaurant that Rumplestiltskin had taken Belle to several times before. The moment they entered through the double doors and came upon their fellow couple, standing awkwardly near the hostess station at the front of the restaurant, Rumplestiltskin realized exactly what had brought them here tonight.

"This is payback," he muttered quietly to Belle. "Because Red spread a false rumor about your relationship that wound you up in untold uncomfortable situations, you want to see her flounder her way through an awkward date with the man she's had her eye on for months." Belle gave the barest hint of a nod that Rumplestiltskin might have mistaken as unintentional if it weren't for the wicked glint in her eyes when she glanced up at him. The corners of his lips twitched up. "I'm so proud."

They were shortly thereafter seated, Belle across from Red and Rumplestiltskin across from Archie. Belle was holding Rumplestiltskin's hand under the table, discreetly, and stroking her thumb across the back of his hand. It was a soothing sensation, and put Rumplestiltskin more at ease than he otherwise would have been.

"So," Red said, drawing out the word to fill the uncomfortable silence. She was reading her menu with an expression of bewilderment, very much like the expression Belle had worn when Rumplestiltskin first took her out to eat. "I… have never heard of any of these foods in my life." She looked up, eyes pleading with Belle to _help_. "Is this even English?"

Belle chuckled. "Just read the descriptions underneath and order what sounds good."

There was a pause as Red attempted to do so. "Yeah, okay, those aren't written in English either. This is all food-language. I feel like a basic understanding of Foodese is required."

"Foodese?" Archie repeated, speaking for the first time that evening. He quirked an eyebrow at Red, who shrugged.

"Foodian?" she tried. "Foodish?"

Archie snorted with laughter. "You work in the food industry," he reminded her.

"As a waitress in an American-style diner," Red added pointedly. "All I have to know is hamburger, French fries, milkshake. Would you like ketchup with that?"

Archie rolled his eyes. "Here, try this." He pointed to an item on the menu. Red squinted at the item's description.

"I'll just have to trust your judgment," she said, giving up her attempts to understand all the fancy expensive-restaurant lingo.

Archie returned his attention to his own menu. "And my fluency in Foodish," he added under his breath.

The waiter came by a few minutes later to take their drink order. Rumplestiltskin turned to the three of them. "Anyone driving tonight?" he asked. Although his business dealings tended to toe the line of legality, he was a rule-abiding citizen in most other aspects of his life, including driving laws.

Red, Belle, and Archie all shook their heads. Rumplestiltskin turned to the waiter and ordered an expensive bottle of wine. Red shook her head in bewilderment.

"I don't even speak wine," she said to herself.

"That's okay," Belle said, "Neither do I. But Rumplestiltskin has great taste. You're in good hands."

When the food arrived, the conversation tapered off. Red occasionally interrupted with exclamations of shock and elation, i.e., "This is the best food I've ever tasted," "No wonder I've never been able to afford to eat here," and, "I didn't know _art_ could be _edible_."

The evening progressed. They chatted, drank wine, ate food that cost more than most of them made in a day and when the check arrived, all eyes turned to Rumplestiltskin. He regarded them all with a look that clearly conveyed his thoughts: '_Seriously? You're making me do this?_' Their answer was just as clear: '_Yes._'

"I can't believe you forced me to go on a double date," Rumplestiltskin murmured in Belle's ear, "And then make me pay." He shook his head. Undeterred, Belle placed a subtle hand on his thigh and inched ever so slightly nearer to him.

"And you've been so good about it, too," she teased in a whisper. "I half-expected you not to agree to go on the date at all. I'm glad you did, though. This has been nice. And I think Red and Archie are really hitting it off."

"Judging by the way they look at each other when the other isn't paying attention, I'd say it's a wonder it took them this long," Rumplestiltskin agreed.

"Are you kidding?" Belle said. "It's not a wonder at all. Up till now, he wouldn't know she was interested – he wouldn't even know she was _flirting_ – if she took of all her clothes in front of him and danced around a stripper pole."

"Nice metaphor," Rumplestiltskin said.

"Thanks. I got it from Granny." Rumplestiltskin repressed a laugh, although he wasn't all that surprised. "Granny" Lucas wasn't exactly the sort to mince her words.

"Seriously, though, thanks for coming," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he slipped his credit card into the check and handed it back to the waiter.

"How could I pass up an opportunity to spend time with you, love?" he asked, gazing down at her fondly. She blushed.

"Oh stop, we both know it was the dress," she countered. He kissed her, this time on the lips, and smiled. It was a good thing that, across the table, Red and Archie were a bit preoccupied as well, with Archie doing a spot-on impression of the noise a cricket makes and Red laughing and saying, "How on earth do you do that?"

"It was the woman inside the dress," Rumplestiltskin corrected. Belle felt a familiar fluttering in her stomach and the overwhelming itch to _get out of this restaurant and somewhere they could be alone_. Not that she hadn't enjoyed Red and Archie's company, but when Rumplestiltskin's voice got all low like that she had a little trouble thinking of anything else.

"Bye, Belle," Red said when they finally exited the restaurant and parted ways. "Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin." The pleasantry still sounded a bit clumsy – Red wasn't used to dealing with Rumplestiltskin except to take his order at the diner – but her intent was clear. She was willing to look past Rumplestiltskin's past and his many, many faults and attempt a cordial acquaintanceship.

Archie, of course, was as gentlemanly as always. He reminded both Belle and Red how lovely they were looking that evening and offered to walk Red home. Rumplestiltskin did the same to Belle.

XXX

_**24 May**_

XXX

"So," Red said pointedly the next day when Belle came by the diner for breakfast. She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "How'd the dress go over?"

Belle didn't really want to talk about it. "You saw. I convinced him to come," she said noncommittally. Red narrowed her eyes.

"You know that's not all you were hoping it would do," she said in a no-nonsense tone. Belle sighed heavily and threw out her hands in exasperation.

"I don't know what to do. His self-restraint is _astounding_," she said. "I understand that he's trying to be a gentleman, but… _come on_. It's like he thinks I honestly don't want it!"

"Maybe that's exactly what he thinks," Red suggested.

"Why on earth would he think that?" Belle exclaimed. Red shrugged.

"Because you're young and attractive and could have your pick of the Storybrooke crop, and he doesn't understand why you'd want to pick him?"

"So, what, I'm just spending every spare moment of my life with him but I don't want any sort of serious commitment? What the hell kind of logic is that?"

"Calm down, I'm just spitballing here," Red said. "I don't pretend to understand men. They're an entirely different species. Like Archie, for example. I asked him out and I'm pretty sure he _still_ thinks I'm not interested." She shrugged. "At least we're in the same boat."

Red paused. "Speaking of which, I haven't told anyone that I went on a date with Archie, so if you could just…" She trailed off.

"What? Not tell anyone? You want _me_ to keep a secret for _you_?" Belle smirked. "Isn't that an interesting turn of events?" But she understood the seriousness of the situation and cut the teasing. "Why would you want to keep it a secret, though? You like him. It shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks, right?"

"I know, and it doesn't," Red assured her, "I just… I don't want everyone making a big deal about it. I don't want to, I don't know, make it seem like it's something serious when it isn't yet. I don't know why. Maybe I don't want to scare him off; maybe I don't want to scare myself off. But if this starts getting really serious really fast, I'm probably going to freak out. And as soon as Snow and Emma know about it, you know it's going to start to get serious."

Belle nodded. "I understand."

Quick as a flash, Red switched back into girly gossip mode, leaning with her forearms on the counter and lowering her voice. "But back to you," she said, practically bouncing with girlish excitement. "Are you going to try out that disturbing frog-boiling plan of yours?"

"It's a metaphor," Belle corrected for what felt like the hundredth time. Red waved her hand dismissively.

"Whatever. It's a creepy metaphor."

"To answer your question, yes," Belle said. "I think it's about time I sneak past his defenses. I think I probably have a shot."

XXX

_**End of Spring.**_


	11. Public Displays of Affection

**This Year**

_A/N: Belle turns up the heat. But you know what they say: If you play with fire, you're going to get burned. Looks like they're in for a scorching summer…_

_Belated Disclaimer: No frogs were harmed in the writing of this story. But the boiled water thing is totally true._

XXX

**Summer**

**11: Public Displays of Affection**

XXX

_**8 June**_

XXX

She'd been especially affectionate since their double date with Archie and Red. It was unnerving, if only because he could discern no logical precedent for this abrupt switch in the dynamics of their relationship. Not that he minded the change; no, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. But, having had very little experience in the world of women for the past, oh, one hundred years or so, Rumplestiltskin was at a loss for what to make of Belle's advances.

It began innocently enough. She started holding his hand more often in public; just about whenever she could be holding his hand, she was. Walking side-by-side down the street, fingers brushing under tables, Belle nudging her hand beneath his when they sat together on his sofa.

Through no conscious decision of his own, Rumplestiltskin found he had developed a habit of slinging his arm around Belle's shoulders whenever they sat next to each other. They looked like a couple, sitting with each other, her snuggling into his shoulder, and more often than not his fingers would end up playing with the ends of her hair that fell across her shoulders. She never said anything about it, but seemed unable to help the charmed smile that crept onto her face. And so he made a point of doing it as frequently as possible. It was not a difficult habit to fall into.

From that point on, whenever Belle and Rumplestiltskin were together, the both of them would invent pointless, unspoken little excuses to touch each other as frequently as possible. His hand on her elbow, her foot rubbing against his ankle under the table. Oftentimes he would just be standing around, minding his own business, when suddenly Belle would quietly sneak up on him, slip her arms around his torso, press her face into his back, and remain that way until he eventually had to move.

It escalated from there. He'd be working at the shop and she would come up behind him and start trailing her lips down his neck. It was never long before there was no hope of him focusing on what he was doing and he turned around to take her into his arms and kiss her wildly.

And then other days, she'd be working in the library and _he_ would come up behind her, hook his cane around her shoulder, spin her around, and, just when she was still disoriented from the sudden motion, capture her lips with his.

They started taking every opportunity to be close to one another. Everyone else in town knew what was going on. At first it was awkward, whenever Archie passed them snogging on the street or Henry walked in on them in the library. Slowly, though, everyone grew accustomed to it, to the point where even Emma couldn't help but smile when she saw them together.

With time, Rumplestiltskin realized what all these phenomena added up to: Belle was acting like his girlfriend.

Not to say that she hadn't acted like his girlfriend in the past. She had visited him at work nearly every day and brought him lunch and took time away from the library to see him and went out on dates or just to his house for a meal. But this was the first time she was _physically_ acting like his girlfriend. Physically, and publicly.

If he really thought about it, Rumplestiltskin might even say Belle was acting more affectionate towards him in front of other people than either of them had ever been comfortable with in the past. Yet somehow now it felt completely natural. Belle would see him on the street and run up to give him a kiss, or he'd walk into the library and she'd coax him into a corner and snog him up against the encyclopedias. All were very normal, even obligatory things one could expect from a girlfriend.

Something was definitely different, and Rumplestiltskin was enjoying it. But was Belle expecting something different from him as well? Uncertain how to reciprocate her affection, Rumplestiltskin decided it would only be fair to respond in kind, treating her like a man would treat his girlfriend. He held doors open for her, took her out shopping when she complained about her shortage of summer clothing and sat outside the dressing room all the while so she could model one floral dress after another. Being able to admire her figure in each new garment was an added bonus.

All this went on for a while, until one Sunday when Rumplestiltskin felt the urge to do something particularly nice for Belle, just because. (He could only imagine the reaction his former self would have if he learned he was doing nice things for others.)

He arrived at the library just after closing time. Ella had already left, and Belle was just finishing up a few things, shelving books and clicking through the library database – which August had set up for her, as per Henry's suggestion – on her computer. She looked up with wide, expectant eyes when he came through the front door and walked around her desk to greet him.

"Turn around," Rumplestiltskin prompted, giving no explanation. Confused but trusting, Belle did so, facing in the opposite direction with her back to him. He came up very close behind her, just as she was constantly doing to him as of late, only instead of wrapping his arms around her waist, he ran a hand along the back of her shoulders, brushing her soft hair aside. He noticed how his touch sent shivers across her warm skin and for a moment wrestled with the idea of exploring the back of her neck with his mouth and seeing just how much of a reaction he got then.

But he didn't. Instead, he did the decent thing and reached over to wrap a thin golden chain around her neck, fastening the clasp and turning her around again to face him.

Looking down at the necklace now looped loosely around her neck, with a rose pendant resting just under her collarbone, Belle gasped and her eyes widened. Her fingers touched the edges of the pendant carefully, as though afraid it might shatter or disappear.

"Rumplestiltskin," she breathed, looking up at him with wide, disbelieving, grateful eyes.

"The chain's gold," he felt the inexplicable need to tell her. "And those are real emeralds and rubies."

Indeed, the crimson petals of the rose were a swirl of miniscule red gems, and the stems and leaves a sparkling green. He'd bought it at the jeweler's for a handsome price, though it was worth every penny to see it on her, and the look on her face.

Yet she didn't say anything, just turned the pendant over and over in her fingers. The momentary silence was enough to bring a cloud of disappointment down on Rumplestiltskin. She didn't like it, he was going to have to return it, and the hour he had spent at the jeweler's deciding what to buy her had been a waste. It wasn't the end of the world, but he'd been looking forward to giving the necklace to Belle and had been hoping she would like it.

"If you don't like it, I can just—"

Belle interrupted him by pressing her lips to his. "You worry too much," she whispered, pulling back only slightly to meet his eyes. "I love it, and I love you."

She kissed him again, deeply. Rumplestiltskin's hand, which had been reaching for the necklace when she'd cut him off, hovered between them a moment before resting at the place where her neck met her shoulder. His other hand gravitated towards her waist, finding a strip of warm, creamy skin between her loose, airy blouse and the waist of her jeans that had been revealed when she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. Unable to help himself, he stroked his thumb across the side of her stomach and marveled at how soft it was.

That night, as he lie awake in bed, tormented by his own sleeplessness, he thought about Belle's skin, and wondered if it all felt that way.

XXX

_**9 June**_

XXX

The next day, Belle nearly ran straight into him on the street. She was sprinting down the sidewalk in one direction as he walked towards the diner in the other direction. He was looking down at his phone, momentarily distracted by the little red icon that alerted him to a new voicemail; she was looking over her shoulder to see if she was being pursued.

Those few brief seconds of distraction were all it took for Belle to suddenly collide with him, nearly sending him toppling over if his reflexes hadn't been quick enough and he hadn't reached out and grabbed a nearby lamppost. He winced as his bad leg protested to the sudden 120-pound weight being thrown onto him.

Breathing heavily, Belle stepped back quickly and composed herself. When she saw who she'd run into, her cheeks burned bright red; she gasped and offered him a hand to steady himself. "Rumplestiltskin, I'm so sorry; I wasn't watching where I was going," she explained, wiping away the beads of sweat from her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, dearie, I'm fine," he assured her with a shaken smile. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," she said, grinning contagiously. Rumplestiltskin collected his thoughts; his mind was still racing from the sudden collision, when all he'd been able to think was, '_What the hell was that?_'

Belle, he noticed, even looked nice after running several blocks. She was panting, her hair tousled and falling out of its curly ponytail, her skin glistening with sweat. Perhaps it was the fact that he thought she looked beautiful always; perhaps instead it was the image of her tousled, panting, and sweaty for entirely different reasons.

He shouldn't be thinking like that.

"What on earth were you running from?" he asked, diverting his mind from the dangerous path it had taken. Belle laughed breathlessly and tucked a stray curl out of her face.

"Oh, it's a funny story, actually," she said. "So the other day I was teasing Red about Archie, and so today, to get back at me, she borrowed Archie's cologne, practically dumped the entire bottle on me when I wasn't looking, and told Pongo to chase me and slobber all over me or something. I don't know exactly what she told him to do; I don't speak dog. I swear, though, a human could smell this stuff from a mile off; Pongo could probably smell me across town."

Rumplestiltskin peered at her curiously, about to make a snide statement quantifying exactly how odd she could be sometimes – on a scale of one to Jefferson – when they heard barking from a ways behind them. Belle's eyes widened, and she swore. It looked as if she was about to make a break for it when she glanced back at Rumplestiltskin, standing there with his cane. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He couldn't run, and she didn't want to leave him behind in the middle of their conversation. Pongo, now in sight, was bounding towards them.

Struck with sudden inspiration, Rumplestiltskin turned to Belle. "Didn't you say Archie had trained Pongo not to interrupt couples when they're kissing, because of that incident with Red?" Belle nodded, confused.

In a split-second decision, Rumplestiltskin grabbed Belle by her elbows, tugged, and ended up with a mouthful of _her_. She embraced him almost instantly, her hand in his hair and his at the small of her back. When Pongo reached them, instead of attempting to tackle Belle and cover her with doggie kisses, he sniffed around their legs a while before losing interest and bounding away, back in the direction of the diner.

Several seconds later, Belle muttered, "Good plan, but I think he's gone. We can probably stop now."

Rumplestiltskin simply went back in for another kiss with a hasty, "Just in case he comes back."

XXX

_**10 June**_

XXX

They ended up on his couch on Tuesday evening. Rumplestiltskin's couch had been through a lot, and this was hardly the worst of it. But in this particular instance, Rumplestiltskin was quite glad that his inanimate possessions were, in fact, inanimate. It would hardly do to have his house's clocks and candlesticks spying on his evenings with Belle, especially _this_ evening.

She was nestling against him, and she turned her voice into that tone she knew very well he couldn't say no to. The silky, sultry tone that made him lose control of his own voice and slip into a deep accent that, in turn, drove _her_ crazy.

"Red asked me today if we could go on another double date with her and Archie," she said, tilting her head up to drag her lips down his jaw.

"Mm, why?" he managed, indulging himself, because he knew he'd always stop himself before they went too far… right?

Belle kissed the corner of his mouth. "Red's complaining that Archie isn't as open when it's just the two of them." She kissed the other corner. "He gets awkward when it's only him and her," she ran her hands slowly down his torso, fingers catching in every wrinkle of his shirt. "And their only real options are us, Ella and Thomas, who are so busy with Alexandra, and Charming and Snow," her hands settled on either side of his pelvis, palms balancing precariously on his hipbones as she leaned towards him, "But they're so sweet and loving around each other that Red's afraid it'll make Archie feel _more_ awkward." She nestled her face against the slope of his neck, dragging her nose and lips along his throat as Rumplestiltskin subconsciously tilted his head back to give her better access.

"In that case I guess we could—nngh…" Rumplestiltskin's acquiescence transformed partway through into a stifled moan. Belle had leaned farther forward, the pressure of her hands digging into his hips. He hungrily slammed his mouth against hers, hands cupping her face, shoving his tongue through her lips, and Belle hummed with pleasure. All the while, Rumplestiltskin was making small, restrained noises in the back of his throat that hinted at exactly what he wanted to do.

XXX

_**11 June**_

XXX

When he entered the library on Wednesday, he didn't immediately see Belle, but only briefly did he wonder where she was before the sound of distinctly feminine voices wafted over to him from the back of the room in the biography section. Between the bookshelves, Belle and Red were talking in hushed voices. Rumplestiltskin stopped in his tracks, not making a sound, guiltlessly listening in.

"—Got really close last night," Belle was saying. Rumplestiltskin couldn't see her face, but she sounded eager. "But I, um, fell."

"Fell?" Red repeated. Even the sound of her voice was in full-gossip mode, which meant something intriguing had to be going on. Rumplestiltskin's ears pricked up and he listened intently.

"Off the sofa," Belle answered. Rumplestiltskin could hear the blush in her voice. Her words clued him into what they were talking about: the night before, on his sofa, Rumplestiltskin and Belle had gotten pretty heated in their physical intimacy. It probably would have progressed much further, in fact, if Belle hadn't gone tumbling off the sofa and landed hard on her bottom. They'd laughed about it at the time – it had been hilariously funny – and Red was getting quite a laugh out of it now.

"Bad move," Red advised. "If you have the choice, your first time should always be in a bed."

A bed? Her first time? Rumplestiltskin mulled over Red's words in momentary confusion before the rest of her meaning clicked in his head.

They were discussing Belle's sex life.

Wait, Belle was a virgin? (Later it would occur to Rumplestiltskin how ridiculous it was that _that_ was what stuck out to him about the girls' conversation.) He supposed he'd always been aware of that, had always assumed, in the back of his mind, but he'd never really… _thought_ about it.

In fact, he tried _not_ to think about that kind of thing. It was best for both of them that he didn't.

However, now that he was going to have to think about it anyways, he was struck with another, even more astonishing idea: Belle _wanted _to… with him… He was completely taken aback.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. How could he not? She was beautiful, and he loved her. As evidenced by the way she'd played him like a violin the previous night, tricking him into agreeing to a second date with Red and Archie.

"Where was yours?" Belle was, meanwhile, asking Red.

"The backseat of a car," the waitress admitted. "In retrospect it was a bad decision. I spent the whole time with the seatbelt buckle digging into my back. It wasn't very comfortable. I don't recommend it."

"Good to know," Belle said sarcastically. "I was definitely planning on luring him out to his _car_. That wouldn't be suspicious _at all_. I need him to not suspect what's going on at first."

'_A little too late for that, dearie,_' Rumplestiltskin thought slyly, an idea beginning to form in his head.

"If he knows what's happening, he'll walk away or make up some excuse not to," Belle continued. Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. When had he given her that impression? Certainly he hadn't made a move, but for goodness's sake, he was being a _gentleman_. And he hadn't known she'd _wanted_ him to make a move.

Having all the information he needed, Rumplestiltskin left the library without a sound that might alert to the girls to his presence. So Belle was planning on "luring him" somewhere and seducing him. Well, there was certainly no need for that. A wicked smile spread across his lips.

There was no need for that at all.


	12. The Boiled Frog Initiative

**This Year**

_A/N: A watched frog never boils. Caveat lector, that is, reader beware._

XXX

**Summer**

**12: The Boiled Frog Initiative**

XXX

_**12 June**_

XXX

It came and went like any other day. The only minor disturbance occurred when Ella came in that morning; she let Alexandra loose in the children's section and came up to Belle, fishing in her pocket with a curious expression on her face. She withdrew a single key on an otherwise empty key ring, holding it up for Belle's inspection.

"This was in an envelope in front of my door this morning," she explained as Belle took the cool metal object in her hands, squinting at it, "With a note."

"What'd it say?" Belle asked, handing the key back to Ella, who pocketed it and read from a golden sticky note. Belle cast her gaze skyward. At least she could always rely on Rumplestiltskin to leave a calling card. ("He's kind of like the Joker," Red would later joke. "He goes around wreaking havoc, and instead of leaving playing cards, he leaves little gold sticky notes.")

"'_Had the local locksmith make a copy of the key to the library, in case you ever need to let yourself in._'" Ella looked up. "I'm guessing this isn't from you?"

"No," Belle said, already getting out her phone to text Rumplestiltskin.

"So it's from Gold?"

"Yep." She sent her text.

"_A key to the library? Why now? –B_"

His reply was frustratingly ambiguous:

"_Just in case. –R_"

After that, Belle went about her day without further interruption. She didn't see Rumplestiltskin for lunch, nor for dinner, as she'd already made plans with Red. Additionally, their second date with Red and Archie was on Saturday, so there would be plenty of time then for Belle to enact Stage Two of the Boiled Frog Initiative (Red had named it, despite Belle's fervent protests on the grounds of its utter ridiculousness).

For now, Belle thought she'd just go home, and maybe watch a movie from the huge stack of DVDs Red had insisted she "simply couldn't live without watching." But almost as soon as she'd changed into her pajamas and gotten settled with a blanket on the couch, her phone had buzzed.

"_Fancy coming over to watch a movie? –R_"

Belle glared up at the sky. "Seriously?" she said to whatever higher power was sitting in the clouds and laughing down at her. This was honestly just her luck. She tapped out a quick reply:

"_Isn't it a bit late? –B_"

She looked out the window. Indeed, it was already dark outside. The clock in the kitchen read eight-thirty. It was _very _late to be going to Rumplestiltskin's, especially considering it was a weeknight.

"_I'm bored and lonely. If you don't come over, I'll have to resort to torturing the residents of Storybrooke for entertainment. –R_"

Belle rolled her eyes and let out a puff of air. That man…

"_I was going to watch a movie on my own. I'm already in my pajamas. You could join me, if you want to come over here. –B_"

"_You're going to make the cripple do all the walking? –R_"

"_You could drive. –B_"

"_I don't want to. Please? You don't even have to change out of your pajamas. –R_"

Belle considered this. She'd gone shopping with Ruby a few weeks ago, and her pajamas were pretty cute. And no one ever got to see her in them…

"_Alright. But you have to wear yours too. I'll feel ridiculous if you're sitting next to me in a suit and tie. –B_"

And so, after an embarrassing walk through town during which she fortunately didn't run into anyone, Belle arrived at Rumplestiltskin's door, waiting for him to answer her knock. It didn't take long before the door was thrown open.

"I can't believe you made me walk all the way—" Belle cut off upon seeing Rumplestiltskin's frame filling the doorway, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide with shock. "You actually wore your pajamas," she observed dimly, looking him up and down, still half-convinced she was seeing things. He looked so… casual. She didn't realize how much she'd wanted to see him like this until now.

"I didn't want you to feel ridiculous," he said simply, gesturing for her to come inside. She did so, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze on her. She nervously tugged at her top. She hadn't given the slightest thought to how revealing her tight white tank top and pastel pajama shorts were when she'd left the house, but now she couldn't help but wish she'd thrown on something a little more decent. Burning bright red from her cheeks to her chest, she felt Rumplestiltskin's eyes rake over her.

"I'm still feeling pretty ridiculous," she admitted under her breath. She didn't expect him to have heard her, but he glanced at her over his shoulder as he led her back to the living room, where he already had a movie in the DVD player and the television on. And maybe it was just her, but she could've sworn she saw his eyes darken, and he _definitely_ wasn't looking at her face.

"You don't look ridiculous," he assured her roughly. She stumbled and nearly tripped.

What was going on? _She_ was supposed to be having this effect on _him_, not the other way around. But here she was, blushing and fidgeting with her clothing and tripping over her own two feet, all because of the way he'd looked at her.

The way he was still looking at her.

The way she'd wanted so long for him to look at her.

The evening continued, mostly without incident. Belle sat beside him throughout the movie, and if her hand was on his thigh and his was slung casually around her shoulders, neither of them said anything.

Once the credits rolled, Belle looked meaningfully at the arm around her and reluctantly shrugged it off. "I should go." She rose to her feet, or meant to, but Rumplestiltskin grabbed her wrist and tugged her down next to him once more. She fell onto the sofa practically on top of Rumplestiltskin, and his hands were on her bare thighs brushing against the hem of her shorts. Her breathing was shallow and she didn't quite believe what was happening, because she'd wished it for far too long for it to be true.

His voice was low and his accent was thick when he said, "It's late." Both of them glanced over at the clock on the mantle reading eleven o'clock. Rumplestiltskin slid closer to her and gazed at her sinfully. "You could stay."

Belle's breath caught in her throat. "What?" she managed breathlessly, her mind unable to think in a straight line, instead whirling in circles at her nearness to Rumplestiltskin and his suggestive behavior, the way she was by now practically straddling him and the pounding of her heart in her chest.

He leaned forward only slightly to touch his lips to her cheek, just in front of her ear, and trailed kisses down her jawline, one of his hands sliding up her thigh and coming to rest on her bottom. She made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and melted into him, throwing her arms around his neck for balance.

"Unless you want to leave," he said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

Leave? Why would she want to leave? Belle's mind took a minute to catch up with what was happening and what was being said. Rumplestiltskin was offering to have her stay. But… but surely not in the way she thought he meant, right? Because after all him being a gentleman and refusing her advances and… this couldn't be… could it?

No, she decided. Her wishful thinking and overactive imagination was causing her to turn this into something it wasn't, said the logical part of her brain (meanwhile, her more emotional side vehemently protested: '_He's got you on his lap with his hand on your butt; how could you be misreading the situation?_'). She extricated herself from his embrace and stood, wondering where she'd left her shoes, jacket, and keys.

"I… It's probably better… if I do," she said, eyes desperately searching for anything else to focus on but him as he stood and followed her to the door. She found her jacket and keys discarded in a pile by the door, and once she had all her things, she stood there with the door open, finally allowing herself to look back. He was standing behind her calmly, his expression betraying nothing.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said hastily, but before she could remove herself from the situation, Rumplestiltskin reached up a hand to caress her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear and pressing another kiss to her cheek, just as he'd done before. As he withdrew his lips, he looked at her with a gleam in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Belle."

It didn't feel like a goodbye. It felt like the opposite. It felt like an invitation.

Oh gods.

The moment Rumplestiltskin's hand fell at his side, Belle bolted from the door, taking off down the street at a brisk pace. Rumplestiltskin closed the door behind her without another word. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she wondered what was wrong with her. She got about five steps before she realized exactly how stupid she was being. Hadn't he been offering her exactly what she wanted? What the hell was she thinking?

Throwing caution to the wind, Belle turned on her heel, took the steps to Rumplestiltskin's door at a sprint, and threw the front door open.

"Rumplestiltskin, I—"

He'd apparently been waiting for her; his hand reached out and tugged her inside and he slammed the door shut behind them, trapping her up against the wall and melding his mouth to hers. She flung off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. Rumplestiltskin's free hand rested on the wall behind her head and his cane clattered to the floor, leaving his other hand free to roam up and down her side, finally settling at her hips and pressing them flush against his. Experimentally, she bit down on his lower lip. He groaned and slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers splaying over her stomach.

They broke apart when he led her to the stairs; he had a time of getting up them, being that he, first, didn't have his cane, and second, kept stopping to recapture her lips and contribute to her worsening state of disarray, mussing her hair and skewing her clothes and smearing her lip gloss. When they reached the second floor corridor, Belle was slammed up against his bedroom door; her hand fumbled behind her for the doorknob, and when she found it, threw the door open. They nearly fell inside when she did so, but somehow they managed to make it into bed without either of them tripping over their own feet.

When Belle's mind caught up again with the reality of the situation, she came to an untimely realization. Of course this happened when she was down to her bra and underwear and Rumplestiltskin was no longer wearing a shirt, but something led her to blurt it out anyways.

"Wait," she gasped out, hands on his chest to keep him a few inches away. He looked at her with a gaze that clearly said, '_You have got to be kidding me._'

"I'm sorry, are you honestly having second thoughts _now_?" he asked, and he actually sounded a little irked.

"No, sorry, it's just…" Belle paused momentarily, staring up at him with her eyes narrowed. "I'm a little disappointed that all my hard work was for nothing." Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows shot up.

"Your 'work'?" he repeated, hands on either side of her, anxious for her to say what she needed to say and get back to what they were doing, or were _about_ to do, before she'd chosen such an inopportune moment to interrupt their debauchery.

"Well, yes," she said. "I was going to seduce you. I thought you were going to be more reluctant than this. I had it all planned out."

"The Boiled Frog Initiative?" he asked. Belle gaped.

"How did you—?"

"Perhaps next time you discuss your disturbingly named ploy to seduce me in great detail with your notorious gossip of a best friend, dearie, you should check to make sure no one's listening," he suggested. Belle blushed bright red.

"You heard that, huh?" He grinned wickedly.

"Every word."

"And you just _had_ to have it your way?" Seriously, she'd put so much effort into turning up the heat in their relationship and now he'd gone and started the fire of his own accord.

Rumplestiltskin's grin only widened as he descended on her, and all her thoughts of protest were wiped clean from her mind. "I haven't had my way just yet…"

XXX

_**13**** June**_

XXX

Belle woke before him – no surprise there – and floundered in confusion for but a moment as she wondered where she was and what was going on. Of course, even before the memories came flooding back, it wasn't very difficult to put the pieces together.

She was in Rumplestiltskin's bed. Naked. And basically plastered to her now-official lover. Those were some pretty unmistakable clues.

Briefly Belle debated slipping downstairs and getting something to eat – she was starved – but couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she shut her eyes and prolonged the pleasurable experience of lying in bed with Rumplestiltskin's limbs draped across hers as he breathed peacefully beside her.

In time, however, the gnawing in her stomach became too much to ignore. She couldn't get out of bed without waking him, so instead she nuzzled his neck until he showed signs of stirring. He murmured incoherently and opened his eyes, gazing down at her with momentary disbelief.

"Good morning," she said sweetly, lids heavy with sleepiness.

"It is indeed," he agreed, kissing her softly and drawing her near. She cut the embrace short.

"I was going to go downstairs and make us something to eat," she said, and, taking the cue, he untangled himself from her so she could get up and get dressed. Her pajamas from the night before were still scattered across the floor; she didn't bother trying to piece together an outfit from his clothes, just put them back on, rumpled as they were, and turned to face him, still lying in bed watching her. She ran a hand through her wildly messy hair and leaned over the bed to kiss him languidly.

"You just come join me when you're ready," she told him. "But don't you dare fall back asleep."

He promised not to, and she thudded down the stairs, her body feeling as if it were made of lead.

She was just putting out several slices of toast when Rumplestiltskin came up behind her, arms snaking around her waist and face burying in her hair.

"So?" he said. Belle shut her eyes, leaned into him, and smiled.

"If you're referring to breakfast, it's basically ready," she answered, turning in his arms and kissing him. "If you're referring to last night… well." She ran her tongue across her teeth; she really needed to brush. "It's a little too early to issue an evaluation," she teased, "But I'd say you went above and beyond the call of duty. Really exemplary work."

"Mm, I look forward to reading the finished report," he replied, moving in to kiss her again. She turned her head to prevent him from doing so.

"Sorry, I can't stand the taste of my own mouth anymore," she told him, peeling herself away from him. "Do you have a toothbrush and toothpaste I can use?"

"I think yours are still in the guest room."

"Great, I'll be right down." She gestured to the food on the kitchen table. "Help yourself. Leave some for me, though."

Belle bounded up the stairs, gave her teeth a thorough brushing two times over, and returned downstairs to find more than half the toast gone and Rumplestiltskin, in turn, in the bathroom flossing.

"Decided to follow your lead," he told her.

"You barely left me any food," she complained. He shrugged and met her eyes in the mirror.

"I worked up an appetite," he said.

"Well, yes, so did I, that's why I was so eager to eat." But she couldn't stay upset with him, so she gave one final scowl before sauntering back into the kitchen.

She glanced up at the clock in the hallway and cursed loudly. Rumplestiltskin poked his head out of the bathroom.

"I have to be at the library in fifteen minutes!" she exclaimed, realizing it was still a weekday and, as such, she had to go to work. But when she turned to Rumplestiltskin, she found him standing calmly with an iniquitous smile on his face. She regarded him apprehensively.

"What did you do?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"You don't have to go in today," he reminded her. "You have an assistant. And didn't you watch Alexandra just last weekend? Ella, as the saying goes, 'owes you one.'"

He had a point. But there was still one flaw in that otherwise foolproof plan: "I still have to let Ella in. You and I are the only ones with keys."

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. "Are we?"

Suddenly, Belle remembered the previous morning, when Ella had come in with the key ring and the golden sticky note. She smiled just as mischievously. "You sly bastard," she said, batting his arm. "You _knew_." Rumplestiltskin grinned unrepentantly.

"I was hoping," he admitted. Belle shook her head.

"So when you invited me over…?"

"I had every intention of taking you to bed," he said bluntly. Belle let out a short laugh.

"But wait," she said, hung up on one last detail, "How did you know I would be in my pajamas?"

"I didn't," he said. "That was just an added bonus." He came up to her and slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shorts. Belle shied away, reaching blindly for her phone, which she'd left by the toaster making breakfast. Rumplestiltskin followed, standing behind her as she faced the counter, his hands reaching around her and tugging her against him. She scarfed down a slice of toast and dialed Ella's number. It rang several times before the young woman picked up.

"_Hello?_" came Ella's voice from the other line. Belle fought to keep from making noises as Rumplestiltskin brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck.

"Ella, I know this is last minute, but can I ask you to take care of the library today?" she asked pleadingly. "I can't make it, I'm… er, sick. … Yes. … Yes, I'll probably be in bed all day." Rumplestiltskin muttered his approval of that idea and nibbled her earlobe. Belle went weak at the knees and had to lean on the counter for support. "No, that was just, um, the television." Rumplestiltskin chuckled but didn't say anything.

"Thank you so much," Belle said with sincere gratitude. "I'll pay you extra for the day. And I'll call Henry and tell him to come in after school if he can and help you out. … Thank you, I will. … Okay, bye!" She hung up and turned around to Rumplestiltskin, finding their faces inches apart. She had to strain to keep her tone stern.

"You shouldn't distract me like that when I'm on the phone," she scolded. He smiled without a hint of guilt or regret.

"'You'll probably be in bed all day'?" he instead repeated, eyebrows raised slightly in questioning. The corners of Belle's mouth quirked up.

"Mm, well, I am taking a sick day," she said suggestively, hooking her fingers in the belt loops of his dressing gown. "I'll need someone to take care of me."

He leaned in towards her. "You know I always will."


	13. Inquiry

**This Year**

_A/N: Show of hands, who saw Sunday's new episode, "The Outsider"? Now keep your hands up if you were devastated by the ending. …Yeah, me too. And as much as I wish (and you have _no idea_ how much I wish) I could fix the terrible things that happened in the last two minutes of that episode, alas, it is out of my control. But I do hope this chapter does a little something to cheer you up. Keep sailing, valiant Rumbelle shippers; we still have true love on our side!_

XXX

**Summer**

**13: Inquiry**

XXX

_**14 June**_

XXX

"I heard you were sick yesterday."

Belle was in the diner for breakfast on Saturday, after spending all of Friday in bed with Rumplestiltskin. And Red was surely just making casual small talk, politely inquiring after her friend's health. But all the while, the gleam in Red's eye as she poured Belle's iced tea hinted that perhaps she knew some of what had gone on when Belle was supposedly on sick leave. And not a soul in Storybrooke, least of all Belle, would ever put it past Red to have ulterior motives in her questioning.

"Yes, I took a sick day," Belle confirmed, not quite meeting Red's eyes. She wasn't a terrible liar, but she was nowhere near so good as Rumplestiltskin, and wanted to avoid letting any of her tells show.

Belle's efforts, however, were in vain. Red arched one dark eyebrow. Yep, she _definitely_ knew there was more to the story than Belle was revealing. "You look a lot better now," she observed casually, watching Belle out of the corner of her eye. "You must've gotten well quick."

"Yes, well," Belle took a sip of her iced tea as an excuse to take a moment to think. What could she say? "I… feel a lot better," she stammered out, though it wasn't, strictly speaking, true. She'd been a little sore that morning. Not that it hadn't been worth it.

"Mhm," Red said with a sharp nod, sliding her gaze back over to Belle, who was nervously tapping at ice cubes with her straw. "And I'm sure Rumplestiltskin took the day off because he was… what, taking your temperature and making you soup?"

"Something like that."

Fed up with Belle's flimsy alibi, Red shifted her eyes around the mostly empty diner, leaned forward with her forearms on the counter, and whispered to Belle. "Come on, Belle, we both knew you weren't sick," she said with a smile, tapping Belle's arm, encouraging her to open up to her. "There's no use trying to hide it from me."

"I… What… do you expect me to say?" Belle managed shyly, fighting back a blush. Red had teased her plenty in the past, but this was different. This time she actually _had_ done what Red was accusing her of.

"Dish the details, obviously!" Red squealed. "How was it? How was _he_?" Red bit her lip and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Belle went scarlet, and her cover was officially blown.

"I-I don't… I just…" She sighed. It was no use; she might as well, as Red said, "dish the details" now and spare the torture of trying to keep a secret from her best friend. "It was great," she admitted.

"What are we talking about?"

Red and Belle had been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn't noticed Snow approaching. The queen took the stool next to Belle at the counter and gave a friendly smile. Belle opened her mouth to reply, but Red was quicker to the punch.

"Noth—"

"Belle and Rumple finally did it!" she exclaimed to Belle's utter mortification.

"Did what?" Snow asked, confused.

"_You _know," Red said pointedly, giving her eyebrows another wiggle. Snow gasped, turned to see a beet-red, blushing Belle, and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning forward so as not to be overheard.

"For real this time?" Snow asked, directing the question at Belle. Belle averted her gaze.

"Yes," she muttered reluctantly. Snow grinned. Red squealed.

"Congratulations!" Snow exclaimed. She'd been a lot more accepting of Belle and Rumplestiltskin's relationship lately, now that Belle had been accepted into the girls' social group due to her friendship with Red. Her congratulations, Belle knew, was sincere.

"So the Boiled Frog Initiative was a success?" Red asked.

"Boiled frog?" Snow repeated, frowning in distaste. Her hesitance hinted that she wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

"Just some creepy metaphor Belle came up with," Red explained, unhelpfully. She returned her attention to Belle. "I thought you were going to do it Saturday! Impatient much?"

"I _was_ going to do it Saturday!" Belle insisted. "Apparently Rum had other ideas in mind."

"Wait, wait, wait," Red said, refilling Belle's iced tea and even spilling a little in distraction. "Back up. _Rum_ initiated it? As in Rumplestiltskin, as in Mr. Gold, as in he's-too-much-of-a-gentleman-to-ever-make-a-move? Wasn't that the whole point of the Initiative?"

"It was!" Belle persisted. "And I truly thought he wouldn't! Until he did."

Red snorted. "So after all you insisting he's some chivalrous, honorable, respectful man who'd never dream of starting anything, he turns out to be just like any other man?"

"He actually—" Belle started to argue, but Snow spoke up before she could make her point.

"What brought about the change?" she asked, rejoining the conversation after taking a while to catch up with what the heck they were talking about. "Anything in particular?"

"Apparently he overheard Red and I talking in the library," Belle admitted, lowering her voice even more than it already was. "So he invited me over, we watched a movie, and he, er, asked me to stay." She went red again.

Red grinned. "And that was all she wrote," she said wickedly. Belle pursed her lips.

"Yes, well…"

Their conversation was interrupted by Emma bursting into the diner with a frantic expression on her face. She slid onto the stool beside Snow.

"Quick, engage me in a conversation," she pleaded frantically. Red scrunched up her nose curiously.

"What—?"

Before Red could ask, Jefferson entered the diner, looking around. His face lit up when he spotted Emma, and he made his way towards them. Red, along with everyone else, realized what was going on. She grinned maliciously.

"Please don't please don't please don't please don't please don't," Emma begged under her breath. Red ignored Emma's pleas and waved Jefferson over.

"Jeff, hey, how are you?" She met Emma's death glare with a self-satisfied smirk. "What brings you here this fine morning?"

Jefferson ignored Red, giving her no more than a tip of his hat before turning instead to Emma. Judging by his heavy breathing, Emma had led him on quite a chase. "Emma, hear me out, please," he said, a little desperately. "Grace has been begging for weeks to have you and Henry over. She really wants her dad to at least be on good terms with her best friend's mother. And honestly, I invited you to _dinner_. And you ran off like I was chasing you down with a chainsaw. How many times do I have to promise I'm not a psychopath before you believe me? Do you want me to get a note from the Cricket? Because if that's what it takes, I can do that."

Emma shook her head. "No, thanks," she said with a halfhearted attempt at a polite smile. "And thank you for the invitation, but Henry and I won't be going to dinner."

Jefferson took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Emma, our children are _best friends_. And yet you avoid me like I'm a carrier of viral plague."

"So you're saying this is the sort of thing you do with all of Grace's friends' parents?" Emma asked, knowing full well that Jefferson could rarely be seen socializing with anyone apart from Rumplestiltskin and Whale, both of whom he knew from the old world. Mostly he stayed cooped up in his mansion doing whatever it was he did to pass the time when Grace was at school or with Henry.

"Grace doesn't have any other friends," Jefferson said matter-of-factly. Emma clamped her mouth shut. Belle could tell she was now seriously considering this whole dinner proposal. Henry didn't have any other friends either. "That's why this is so important," the Hatter continued. "I… I want her to be happy. And if this is what it takes, then I'm willing to endure an awkward meal or two with a woman I once kidnapped."

Emma glared, still withholding her final answer. Jefferson made one final plea. "Just this one time," he said earnestly. "Then you can decide once and for all if I'm a crazy axe murderer, and I'll never bother you again."

"I don't know about axe murder, but the kidnapping thing is pretty irrefutable," Emma said drily. Jefferson didn't argue, just looked at her with hopeful eyes and a pleading smile. Emma hesitated before heaving a melodramatic sigh.

"Fine," she agreed. "One dinner. Henry and I will be there at six. But I'm warning you, any creepy… weirdness and I'm finding a reason to lock you up at the station."

"Deal." Jefferson looked pleased with himself. "I can't wait to tell Grace. She's going to be so excited."

"Yeah, okay, get out," Emma said bluntly. Having gotten what he came for, Jefferson left. Three pairs of eyes were focused on Emma, unblinking. She turned to them and jammed a finger in Red's direction.

"Not. One. Word."

XXX

Rumplestiltskin was waiting at he and Belle's usual table at the diner when Red bounced over to him, tucking her pencil behind her ear and her notepad in her pocket.

"Waiting for Belle?" she asked conversationally.

"Yes, she should be here any minute," Rumplestiltskin replied, pretending to check his watch even though he'd only just checked it. The hands remained resolutely at twelve-thirty.

"Should I go ahead and bring you your drinks while you wait?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

Red returned shortly with two iced teas, setting them in front of Rumplestiltskin and unexpectedly sliding into the seat opposite him, the seat reserved for Belle. Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow when she leaned forward, elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hands, grinning like a hyena.

"Something I can help you with?" Rumplestiltskin offered when the waitress still didn't say anything. He mindlessly swirled his straw in his glass. Red's grin expanded, almost to a frightening degree.

"Nope, not me," she said, continuing to stare at him in a manner that was most disconcerting. After a moment wherein Red's eyes bore into Rumplestiltskin's soul and he pretended it wasn't making him uncomfortable, she spoke up.

"So, fun day yesterday?"

Fortunately Rumplestiltskin was looking out the window and not at Red when she said this, for his eyes widened and he nearly choked on his tea. He turned to gawk at the young woman, whose tongue was poking between her teeth in a penultimate display of mischief. Rumplestiltskin fumbled for words.

"I… You… It…" He paused and took a breath, running his hand through his hair. "_What_?"

He'd never been so flustered in his life by someone who wasn't Belle. He merely sat there with his mouth ajar as Red drummed her fingers on the table and spoke in a lofty, lilting voice.

"I know what you were doooing," she singsonged. She was quick, however, to correct herself. "Or rather, I know _who_ you were doing." She winked. Rumplestiltskin was speechless.

"Don't worry, Belle didn't reveal _too_ many details," Red informed him casually, inspecting her nails. "But I'm fairly good at deductive reasoning when it comes to things like this. I'm the Sherlock Holmes of scandalous gossip."

"I—" Rumplestiltskin began, with no real idea what he was going to say, when Red interrupted him.

"I understand you were pretty assertive," she said, tilting a saltshaker back and forth and watching him in her peripheral vision. She smirked and slid her gaze up to examine his shocked expression, and sniggered.

The front door to the diner opened, and, blessedly, it was Belle. Rumplestiltskin shot her a desperate gaze over his shoulder that clearly conveyed his message: "_Help me._" Belle saw him with Red and made a beeline for the booth.

"Red, I hope you're not making Rumplestiltskin uncomfortable," she warned. Red looked up to smile innocently at her friend.

"Of course not! I would never."

"Mhm," Belle muttered disbelievingly. She shooed Red away and took her place across from Rumplestiltskin. Once Red was out of earshot, she clasped his hand on the table and said sincerely, "I am _so_ sorry for whatever she said."

Rumplestiltskin, still shell-shocked from the experience, simply shook his head. "I think I may have underestimated her," he admitted. "She caught the Dark One off guard. That's something no one but you has ever done."

"And I had to get you to fall in love with me first," Belle said with a grin. "Honestly, though, Red's pretty good at getting what she wants. And she can basically get anyone to say anything if she gets them when their guard is down. Believe me, I know."

"She said she 'knew who I was doing,'" Rumplestiltskin intoned without a hint of amusement. Belle winced.

"She's also not very subtle," Belle said needlessly. "I should probably go talk to her about being a little less… up front." She gave a smile, stood, and made her way to the counter, standing opposite Red.

"Red, what was that back there with Rumplestiltskin?" she demanded in a low voice that Rumplestiltskin had to strain to hear. Red smiled, feigning ignorance.

"What was what?"

"You _ambushed_ him," Belle accused.

"Well, _yeah_," Red said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "I had to catch him off guard if I wanted to get any answers. He's not easy to interrogate."

"You shouldn't be interrogating my…" Belle paused. Her what? Who was Rumplestiltskin to her? "My… boyfriend? Lover?" Red shrugged, as if to ask, "_How am I supposed to know what you should call him?_" "I don't know, you shouldn't be interrogating my Rumplestiltskin!" Belle returned to the table in a huff.

"'Your' Rumplestiltskin?" he repeated when she returned, having overheard her confrontation with Red and pleased with Belle's description of him. Belle shrugged.

"What would you have me call you?" she asked.

"Oh, that's not what I meant at all, dearie," he murmured, leaning over the table and lowering his voice. "You can call me yours any time you like."

"Alright, break it up you two." Belle and Rumplestiltskin jolted away from each other at the sound of Red's voice. The waitress was standing by their table with her notepad, smirking. "This is a family-friendly diner," she reminded them. "Let's keep it PG. However, we do have some rooms available if—"

"THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO STAY HERE," came Granny's voice from across the room. The old woman was glaring up from where she stood by the cash register, fixing Rumplestiltskin with a particularly nasty look. "Do you forget we have wolf hearing? I am _not_ listening to whatever shenanigans _they_ get up to. _This_ is where I draw the line."

Red winced at the thought. "Ooh, yeah, forgot," she said. She turned back to Belle and Rumplestiltskin apologetically. "I'm gonna have to ask you two to leave."

The pair of them looked up with wide, innocent eyes, practically in unison. "We promise to behave," Belle said. Red squinted at them, seeming to consider.

"Aye, you won't even notice we're here," Rumplestiltskin agreed. He slid his knee between Belle's legs under the table and quietly nudged her thigh. She stomped hard on his foot and shot him a glare.

"Not helping," she mouthed at him. He grinned and, rather than make a scene in front of Red and lose their lunch privileges for the day, took out his phone and held it under the table, tapped out a message that detailed exactly what was on his mind, and hit "Send."

Moments later, he heard Belle's phone buzz. She was in the middle of placing their order with Red – who had agreed to give them one last chance to act appropriately – when she pulled it out. Rumplestiltskin watched her eyes skim over the words.

"—With a side of… of…" She cut off with a squeak, eyes widening and mouth hanging open as she stared at her phone, reread the message, then gaped at the smirking Rumplestiltskin.

It didn't take Belle long to decide what she wanted, and it wasn't something that was on the menu. In a split second, she shot up, nearly knocking over her iced tea, and clamped her hand around Rumplestiltskin's wrist, dragging him to his feet.

"On second thought, we're not hungry, we should go, Rumplestiltskin pay for the teas," she blurted out, all in one breath. Rumplestiltskin dug into his wallet and thrust a twenty at Red.

"Keep the change," he told her. Red raised an eyebrow.

"That's a two hundred percent tip," she informed him, but they were already out the door. Red shrugged. "Alrighty then."

"Belle, I need food," Rumplestiltskin protested as Belle took the stairs to her apartment two at a time and jammed her key into the lock, jiggling it until it opened. She tugged Rumplestiltskin inside and their mouths collided, and suddenly his hunger took a backseat to more pressing needs.

"I don't care; get in the bedroom and show me exactly what you meant in that text," she ordered. The corner of Rumplestiltskin's mouth turned up in a lopsided smirk.

"Anything you want, dearie."

XXX

Belle's phone rang. She groaned and flipped over, fumbling for it on the nightstand. It was still late afternoon, but she had absolutely no intention of getting out of bed.

Rumplestiltskin was in the kitchen, finally getting himself some food. After he'd made good on his text message, Belle had reluctantly allowed him to go eat something.

"'Lo?" Belle muttered into the phone, sitting up and trying not to sound like she'd just finished having spontaneous afternoon sex.

"Hey Belle, it's Emma."

That certainly got Belle's attention. "Emma?" Why on earth would the Sheriff be calling Belle? '_I swear, if Rum did something illegal…_'

"I got your number from Henry," Emma explained. "Listen, I need your advice on something."

Advice? Belle was flattered. Emma, the Savior of Storybrooke, was asking _her_ for advice. "What is it?" she asked.

"So Henry's told me bits and pieces of you and Gold's story," the Sheriff prefaced, a bit uneasily, "And I was wondering if you could tell me… How did you and him manage to get past the whole thing where he kidnapped you? I mean, I look at you now and you've got a pretty healthy relationship." Belle wasn't sure if "healthy" was the right word. "What I want to know is, how? With all that he's done, I mean… and to you…"

"He didn't exactly kidnap me," Belle clarified. "It wasn't against my will. I agreed to go with him. But I do understand what you're getting at. How did I look past that, you're wondering?"

"Yes, exactly," Emma said, glad that Belle understood even if she herself didn't.

"And is this about Jefferson?" she asked. She still wasn't convinced of Red's theory that there was anything between the Sheriff and the Hatter, other than their inseparable children, but there was no harm in asking.

Emma scoffed unconvincingly. "Jefferson? Why would it be about Jefferson?"

Belle pursed her lips. So maybe there _was_ something there that wasn't there before. She nonetheless approached the situation with care.

"Well aren't you going to his place for dinner?" Belle asked. "I understand the two of you have a complicated history."

"Oh." Emma paused. "Then, yeah, it's about Jefferson. It's just, I can tell this dinner is really important to Henry. He wants Jefferson and me to get along. And if it's something he really wants, then I'm willing to give it a shot. But I feel like I need to give it my _best_ shot, and that's where I need your help."

"Just get to know him as a person," Belle advised. "When I got to know Rumplestiltskin, I knew what he'd done and what he was known for, but in time I saw who he could be, and what he could be to me, and I found myself falling in love with him."

"Any advice on how to avoid the whole 'falling in love' part?" Emma tried. Belle chuckled.

"If I could choose who I fell in love with, my life would've been a lot easier," Belle said. "I hate to say it, but some things are just meant to be."

She could hear Emma sigh. "I thought you might say that. Thanks, though, Belle. Really."

"Anytime," she said cheerily. "And hey, if anything happens, you send me a text. I'll call and fake an emergency."

"Like what kind of emergency?" Emma asked dubiously. Belle shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know. Rumplestiltskin did some terrible thing to some innocent person and I need you to put a stop to it?"

"Good plan. Thanks again. I owe you one." Emma paused. "But don't you dare tell Gold."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Belle hung up.

"Wouldn't dream of what?" came Rumplestiltskin's voice from the doorway. Belle jumped, startled.

"Nothing," she said with a smile. "You had your fill?" she asked.

"Of food? Yes." He sat down beside her. "Of you? Never."


	14. Fireworks

**This Year**

_A/N: Added a short note at the very beginning of Chapter 1 explaining how this story will probably end up being slightly AU, since I can't keep up with all the changes that keep happening in the show. Meanwhile, Fourth of July isn't high on Rumplestiltskin's list of priorities. Please tell me whether or not this chapter sucks. I haven't decided._

XXX

**Summer**

**14: Fireworks**

XXX

_**4 July**_

XXX

It was a blessing that Rumplestiltskin's bathroom was so spacious. Belle's things – the toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste and assorted cosmetics and toiletries that had gradually accumulated every time Belle spent the night – took up nearly half the counter.

Opening the medicine cabinet, Belle found that it was in a similar state: Rumplestiltskin's items took up two shelves, including an entire shelf devoted entirely to various painkillers, and the other two were reserved for Belle's use. The top left drawer beneath the sink was hers as well, and her hair products sat beside Rumplestiltskin's in the shower.

She was still living above the library, _technically_. She spent about half her nights there, when she was too tired to come over in the evening or had to be up early the next morning. But gradually her possessions were starting to invade Rumplestiltskin's home, her clothes in the guest room closet, her favorite foods in the pantry, even a few of her beloved books scattered throughout.

It was the morning of the Fourth of July, which was a holiday it didn't really make sense for the citizens of Storybrooke to be celebrating, but they'd been doing it so long it had become tradition. This year, the fairies had arranged a magical fireworks display, since no one had access to real, non-magical fireworks in Storybrooke, Maine.

Belle woke before Rumplestiltskin – she _always_ woke before Rumplestiltskin – and was at first reluctant to get out from between the cool linen sheets and withdraw from Rumplestiltskin's unconscious embrace. Nevertheless, she shrugged his arm off, sat, and stretched. Her clothes were all in the guest room across the hall, so she padded barefoot across the hall wrapped in one of Rumplestiltskin's bathrobes and put together an outfit.

Red, white, and blue was the order of the day. She returned with the clothes in her arms and piled them at the foot of Rumplestiltskin's bed. The room was stuffy and hot, and Belle was beyond feeling self-conscious about her body around Rumplestiltskin, so she shrugged off the bathrobe. An electric fan whirred quietly in the corner of the room. That was one thing Belle loved about Rumplestiltskin's house: the air conditioner was a little wonky, and he couldn't stand the heat, so he kept fans plugged into every available electrical outlet and kept them all running in whatever room he was in. He probably owned at least a dozen of them. There were three in the bedroom alone. In the summer, he told Belle, his electricity bills were crippling.

Belle stepped in front of the fan, cooling off a moment before reluctantly stepping away to enter the bathroom. She brushed her teeth while she turned on the shower and waited for the temperamental thing to start running.

She was in the shower lathering her apple-scented shampoo when she heard the bathroom door open. She peeked through the curtain to see a groggy Rumplestiltskin struggling with a near-empty tube of toothpaste.

"Good morning," she said cheerily. He acted like her happy morning attitude annoyed him, but Belle knew he secretly loved it. "Happy Fourth of July." He scoffed.

"What a ridiculous holiday," he said. The effect of his scorn was someone lessened by his garbled voice as he spoke with a mouthful of toothpaste and his toothbrush held between his teeth.

"Why would you say that?" Belle asked, closing the curtain and going back to washing her hair. She had to speak up to be heard over the running water.

"Our town population boasts the highest concentration of monarchs in the world and yet we celebrate democracy and freedom like actual Americans," he pointed out. "Honestly. You realize Emma and Henry are the only ones of us who have actual U.S. citizenships?"

"But it sounds like so much fun!" Belle argued. "I love picnics. And I've never seen fireworks before."

"What a wonderful way to celebrate," Rumplestiltskin said sarcastically. "By gathering the entire town population and simultaneously ruining our eyes and ears with bright flashes and loud explosions."

"Are you going to be like this all day?" Belle asked shortly.

"Probably."

Belle turned off the shower and stepped out to wrap herself in a towel. Rumplestiltskin unabashedly raked his eyes over her before returning his attention to the mirror as he shaved. "Oh, that reminds me, I need to shave as well…" Belle dried her hair, quickly slipped on her bra and underwear, and returned to fetch her razor from the drawer. She cleared a space for herself on the counter. "I'll just use the sink," she said, turning the water on and getting her legs wet and covered with shaving cream.

"Like I was saying," she continued, "I think maybe you should have a more positive attitude. You just might end up enjoying yourself." Rumplestiltskin rummaged through drawers for his aftershave.

"Doubtful," he said. Belle finished shaving and washed off her legs, then dried them with a towel. She turned, sitting on the edge of the counter with her legs dangling beneath her. Having finished his morning routine, Rumplestiltskin turned to her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. He stood between her legs with his hands on her thighs, grinning wickedly. She draped her arms over his shoulders.

"Let me rephrase that," she said slowly. "If you can be nice today, I think I can find a way to… make it worth your while." She infused her words with meaning, and Rumplestiltskin's eyes glittered.

"Is that a promise?"

"Mm, more of a bribe." Rumplestiltskin's grin widened and he leaned in to kiss her. Belle scooted forward until their torsos melded together.

"I suppose I can manage to be nice for just one day."

XXX

"Baby you're a fiiirework! Come on, show 'em whaaat you're wooorth! Make 'em go—Oh! Hi Belle!"

Belle heard Red coming even before the bodacious waitress rang the doorbell to Rumplestiltskin's house. She swung the door open, cutting off Red mid-lyric. Belle had a picnic basket hanging from each arm and was dressed in a colorful summery dress.

Red, meanwhile, was standing in Rumplestiltskin's doorway hand-in-hand with Archie and holding Pongo's leash, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, cutoff short-shorts, and bright red Converse high tops with alternating red, white, and blue nail polish on her fingers. For someone who technically wasn't a U.S. citizen living in a little town that, according to the government, didn't even exist, Red was sure showing signs of serious patriotism.

"Hi Red," Belle said, "Hi Archie."

"Hello, Belle," the psychiatrist said with a friendly smile. "You're looking lovely today. Can I give you a hand with those?" He gestured to the baskets.

"Oh, no, I'm absolutely fine," Belle said, though carrying both large, heavy baskets was a bit of a balancing act.

"Ready to head?" Red asked.

"Just a minute." Belle called back into the house: "Rumplestiltskin! Red and Archie are here! It's time to go!"

She'd managed to talk ("talk" being the operative word, as her persuasion techniques actually involved very little talking) Rumplestiltskin into going without his jacket and tie. He still looked a little overdressed, but Belle knew that trying to get him into anything more casual would probably require more trouble than it was worth.

Belle motioned to the red-and-white checkered blanket draped over a chair in the adjacent room. "Grab that, will you please?"

Rumplestiltskin kissed her on the cheek in passing, his hand nonchalantly brushing against her bottom. She fought a blush. "Anything for you, love," he said with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

"Alright, we are outta here!" Red exclaimed enthusiastically, oblivious to Belle and Rumplestiltskin's exchange. She led their merry little band down the street to the park, where they'd planned to set up a Fourth of July picnic dinner and lounge around until sunset.

"Behave yourself," Belle instructed Rumplestiltskin, purposefully walking a few paces behind Red and Archie and speaking quietly enough to not be overheard. Rumplestiltskin gave her The Look, the one that opened up a cage of energetic butterflies in her stomach.

"No promises," he muttered with a smirk. Belle tried to look stern, which proved a difficult thing to do when she couldn't stop thinking about the events of that morning.

"At least remember that you did promise to be nice," she reminded him.

"Of course, of course," he said dismissively.

At the park, the four of them spread out the enormous checkered blanket beneath the shade of the oak tree. They were setting out sandwiches and lemonade and bowls of fruit when Ella and Thomas arrived with Alexandra in tow.

"I hope we're not too late to help you set up," Ella said, setting Alexandra down in the grass with a picture book from the library. Belle smiled fondly at the little girl.

"Not at all," she told Ella. "Can you get the chips from the bag?"

Ella nodded, and shortly thereafter when everything was set up and everyone was seated, she regaled everyone with a tale of some adorable thing Alexandra had done just that morning.

"This food is wonderful, Belle," Archie said, biting into one of the sandwiches. Belle blushed at the compliment. Archie always seemed to know what to say.

"Thank you," she said. "Rumplestiltskin helped with a lot of it."

"Really?" Ella said. "Rumplestiltskin, you cook?"

"I lived on my own for twenty-eight years, dearie," he said. "It was either learn how to cook, or live on takeout."

"That's useful, though," Ella remarked. "Thomas can't cook at all."

"Though not for lack of trying," Thomas added. Ella laughed.

"Yes, trying, and nearly setting fire to the kitchen."

Belle joined in the laughter. "I was like that when I first started working for Rumplestiltskin in the Dark Castle!"

"It's true," Rumplestiltskin affirmed. "For weeks she burnt every meal she made for me. For the longest time I thought she was doing it out of spite, until I found her in the kitchen one day covered in flour and close to tears."

"I'd forgotten that day!" Belle exclaimed. The memory came back to her. She'd been particularly emotional and frustrated with her own lack of culinary skill, and when she'd dropped an entire sack of flour and gotten herself coated in white, well, that had been the last straw.

"What did you do?" Archie asked Rumplestiltskin.

"I didn't know what to do!" he said, and Belle silently marveled at how comfortable he seemed in this conversation. It was weird, seeing Rumplestiltskin converse so freely with people who'd once resented his very existence, but now that he was, it felt so natural. Like beneath all his tough outer layers, a part of Rumplestiltskin was actually capable of letting other people in.

"For a moment I panicked," he continued. "There was a beautiful young woman covered in flour and sobbing on my kitchen floor. It was nothing I'd ever encountered before, I assure you."

Red snickered. Everyone else seemed a hesitant to join in the humor, like they couldn't believe this was Rumplestiltskin and he was actually cracking a joke.

"After standing there like an idiot for what felt like an age, I—" Rumplestiltskin ground to a halt midsentence, and everyone followed his gaze. Ella gasped.

Alexandra had toddled over in his direction, probably on her way to her mother, when she'd tripped over the edge of the picnic blanket and fallen on Rumplestiltskin's knee. His bad knee. Belle winced.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for Rumplestiltskin to show some sign of anger or irritation, knowing how notorious he was for his short temper. They were all, therefore, quite taken aback when instead he merely cringed a little at the pain, picked up Alexandra from under her arms, and stood her up. The one-year-old didn't seem to think much of it, barely even noticing Rumplestiltskin after he let her go, her eyes instead drawn to the cane resting on the ground at his side. She reached for it, hands outstretched, but he picked it up and set it out of her reach.

"Probably not a good idea for you to be playing with that, sweetie," he said to her in a calm, soft voice. "You'll hurt yourself."

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Alexandra pouted. "Dat," she said, pointing stubbornly to the cane.

Thomas was the first to break the adults' silence. "No, Lexi, you can't have that," he said to his daughter, patiently. He distracted her with toys from Ella's diaper bag. For a moment everyone sat in uncomfortable silence.

"Mr. Gold, I believe you were telling us about Belle's cooking?" Archie said, always willing to be the one to break the ice.

"Ah yes," Rumplestiltskin said, diving straight back into the story. "So I entered the kitchen and asked her what on earth she was doing, because it was an hour past suppertime and this was simply unacceptable—"

"He was a real pain," Belle mock-whispered to the group. Red snorted with laughter.

Once Rumplestiltskin finished the story, Red demanded that he tell more embarrassing stories from he and Belle's Dark Castle days. Rumplestiltskin consented, despite Belle's fervent protests. One tale followed another as the sun crept slowly nearer to the horizon, splashing the sky with shades of peachy pink and orange.

"—Never had the best luck with ladders. I remember once, in the library, she was at the top of one of the ladders reaching across a shelf. I always made a point of being nearby when she was somewhere high up, as she had a habit of falling. And I don't think she realized it at the time – and who was I to say anything? – but the way she was standing, I could see straight up her—"

Belle blushed bright red. "That is entirely inappropriate!" she scolded, cutting Rumplestiltskin off. By this point Red was practically crying from laughter, and some of the others had joined in as well.

"_Hilariously_ inappropriate," she said. Belle shot to her feet, not insulted, but eager to stop Rumplestiltskin before his stories progressed into even worse territory.

"Rum, we should take the picnic things back to your house while they head over to the square to see the fireworks," she proposed. Rumplestiltskin nodded and got to his feet.

"Yes, dearie," he said.

On their way to Rumplestiltskin's house, after berating him for humiliating her, Belle said to Rumplestiltskin, "I'm surprised at you. You were very sociable. And as much as I wish you'd found something else to talk about, I'm beginning to have hope that we might be able to have an actual social life, with friends and all."

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "I confess your presence in my life does sand off my rougher edges," he admitted. Belle lit up and gave him a kiss that was meant to be brief, but he paused in his walking to place his hand at the back of her head, keeping her near as the kiss instead deepened. They were just outside his house by now; Belle dumped the baskets and blanket in her arms on the porch so she could have her hands free to hold Rumplestiltskin against her.

When she broke away, breathless, she knew she needed to give herself a reason not to take a detour into the house and skip the fireworks altogether.

Rumplestiltskin reached towards her. "You've got lipstick…" he said, wiping smeared streaks of red off her face. Belle went pink.

"We should get going," she said.

"We've still got time," he said, looking at the sky, which had turned from sunset to dusk. The fireworks wouldn't begin until it was fully dark.

"I've never seen fireworks before. I want to be in a good place to see them." It was a flimsy excuse, but he bought it nonetheless.

"I think I know just the place," he said.

So that was how they found themselves on the roof of the school, having snuck into the building and climbed a rusty roped-off stairwell. It was near enough to the town square, even, to see the crowd gathered there, waiting for the fireworks. Belle carried up two folding chairs from inside the school for them to sit on while they waited. They weren't up there long before the first explosion signaled the start of the show; a burst of bright blue shot into the pitch-black sky. Belle gasped.

The fireworks came one after another, rapid-fire explosions and bursts of different colored light. Belle leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, mouth hanging open, eyes wide with wonder.

"How much fairy dust does this take?" Belle asked.

"More than I knew there was in Storybrooke," Rumplestiltskin confessed.

The night air grew chilly as the fireworks continued to brighten the sky; Belle nestled up against Rumplestiltskin, taking his hand in hers and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Do you know any patriotic songs?" she asked.

"I love you, darling, but nothing you say can convince me to sing," Rumplestiltskin told her.

"Oh really?" Belle bit her lip, leaned forward, and whispered in his ear. Rumplestiltskin's eyes widened and he turned to her with raised eyebrows.

"I stand corrected."

"Go on," she prompted. "Sing the national anthem."

"All of it?"

"Why? Do you not know the words?" He hesitated. Belle burst into laughter. "You don't!" she exclaimed. "Rumple! You've lived here twenty-nine years and you don't know the national anthem?"

"I didn't attend school in America and I never watch sports or the Olympics," he said with a shrug. "Where else would I have learned it?"

Belle scrunched up her nose. "What are the Olympics?"

"Never mind that," Rumplestiltskin said. "And anyways, I know _some_ of the words." He cleared his throat. "Oh say can you see… by the dawn's early light… er…"

Belle laughed loudly and ended his misery with a kiss. "Nice try," she said. "But that was actually sort of pathetic."


	15. Applying the Brakes

**This Year**

_A/N: The rules are always different for Belle. This chapter didn't pan out how I expected, but I think I like it better this way. Pretty fluffy, also kind of serious. Exploring some issues that I haven't touched upon yet._

XXX

**Summer**

**15: Applying the Brakes**

XXX

_**11 July**_

XXX

She was coming over for dinner, and probably to spend the night, seeing as it was a weekend and she wouldn't have to be up the next morning to open the library. They'd been spending so much time with one another; it had begun to dawn on Rumplestiltskin just how much he'd come to crave Belle's presence, constantly. Just as he'd become so reliant on his power as the Dark One, he was now addicted to Belle. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.

Having never experienced anything like this with a woman before, Rumplestiltskin didn't know what to do. He felt like he should say something, but didn't know what he wanted to tell her. He didn't know what he wanted. It was maddening, but there was nothing he could do about it. So he'd been keeping it bottled up inside himself – which, by this point in his life, was practically second nature to him – and day by day went about his business as usual, all the while tormented by his own inaction and indecision.

In the meantime, he was expecting her any minute. Any minute… fifteen minutes ago… It wasn't like Belle to be late. Where could she be?

He glanced down at his watch. Sixteen minutes late. What was going on? He checked his phone for messages. There were none. He was just about to dial her number, make sure she was alright and hadn't run into any unforeseen complications, when he chanced to look out his window to the street in front of his house. Lo and behold, there Belle was, just… standing there, facing away from the house. No one was with her. Curious.

As Rumplestiltskin watched, Belle crouched down in front of his car, squinting at it, fingers reaching out to brush against the rims, the door handle, the mirror. What on earth was she doing?

His curiosity finally getting the better of him, Rumplestiltskin sighed, got up, and made his way out the front door to where Belle was currently peering inside the window of his beloved Cadillac, fingers pressed against the glass. He cringed at the thought of the fingerprints she would leave. Rumplestiltskin was extremely fond and possessive of his car, and kept it in prime condition. No one was allowed to touch it, _ever_.

Except, apparently, Belle.

But then again, she was always the only exception, wasn't she?

"Belle, darling, what are you doing out here?" he called, straining to seem unconcerned as he made his way over to her as quickly as he could manage. Belle withdrew immediately from the window, having at least the discretion to appear guilty. "Wouldn't you rather come inside, dearie?"

There were smudges on the window. Rumplestiltskin clenched his teeth; if it had been anyone else but Belle, he would have lost his temper entirely, but it _was_ Belle, and he loved her more than he loved his car, and so he mustered up every ounce of his self-control to keep from snapping at her.

"I was just looking," Belle said.

"Yes, and touching," he said pointedly, and perhaps a bit rudely, unable to take his eyes off those infernal smudges. His eyes darted from Belle to the car. "Shall we go, then?" He gestured sweepingly towards the house, hoping to herd Belle indoors, but it seemed she was insistent on causing Rumplestiltskin the maximum amount of strife as possible in one fell swoop, and she remained where she was.

It was clear Belle was holding something back. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged it, but at the moment, Rumplestiltskin was too preoccupied with getting her away from his car to care what she was keeping from him. And he was at least a little bit justified in doing so. Ever since she'd come into his life, Belle had left in her wake a trail of slightly damaged objects of his. From day one, there was the cup, of course, and after that several dishes, a shelf in the library, the "p" key on his home computer, the latch on the back of the television remote that kept the batteries in, one of the hinges of one of the cabinets in the kitchen, the lamp by the bed (that one had partially been his fault), and, just the other day, a light bulb she'd been trying to replace in the hall.

But, Rumplestiltskin reminded himself, these were all material things. Replaceable, hardly even valuable. The dishes had been thrown out, the shelf in the library had been put back in its place, the "p" key popped right back into the keyboard, they'd put a bit of duct tape on the remote to keep the batteries in, the cabinet hinge had been screwed back on, and they'd brought in the lamp from the guest room to use in the bedroom until they got a new one. And if anything happened to his car, it, too, was… replaceable.

And besides, she was only touching it. It wasn't as though she was – heaven forbid – driving it. He didn't think he could ever entrust his car in someone else's hands. But if all the harm she could do was to put a few smudges on the window… No lasting damage had been done.

When she still didn't say anything, however, or make a move to follow him indoors, Rumplestiltskin heaved a melodramatic sigh and asked, "What? What is it?"

She reached out to touch the driver's door handle. Rumplestiltskin tensed. Her touch lingered a moment too long before withdrawing. Her intentions were clear. She meant to ask him something important, something he would be inclined to refuse. Something to do with his car.

He dreaded hearing what it was.

"I was wondering," she began slowly, sliding her gaze up to meet his, and damn those pretty sea-blue eyes; he could already feel his willpower crumbling at the edges.

"Yes?" he prompted impatiently, because he needed her to just come out with it so he could say no before she persuaded him otherwise. Unfortunately, that was not Belle's game. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and reached out to take his hands in hers, swinging her arms just slightly. Her voice was like honey.

"I know it's a lot to ask," she continued, and Rumplestiltskin found his inclination to refuse her slipping away, replaced by the all too familiar desire to give her whatever she asked for, whatever she wanted, "But I have been thinking about it a lot lately… and I want to learn how to drive."

Oh no.

"And I was wondering…" She closed the space between them. Oh, she was crafty. "Would you teach me?"

Oh that was even worse than what he'd imagined she might say.

Teach her, Belle, how to drive? Teach her how to drive _in his car_?

"Absolutely not," was his initial, immediate response. Belle's face fell, and a part of Rumplestiltskin – in fact, a great majority of him – despaired at seeing her upset, and even more at having caused it. But he knew where he stood on this issue, and he was going to have to put his foot down. This time, Rumplestiltskin resolved, he would not be swayed.

Belle obviously didn't get the memo, though, because she put on a sad little pout and inched nearer to him. "Please?" she requested. "I just think it's important that I know how. If I'm ever in an emergency I should know how to drive, right?"

Damn, she had a point. Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. "I don't relly feel comfortable—" he began, but Belle interrupted.

"I would think you would feel _more_ comfortable, knowing I can take care of myself," she argued. And it was a very convincing argument. He _did_ want her to be able to take care of herself.

"I still don't know," he hedged, a bit uneasily. He was only now realizing just how hard it was for him to refuse Belle anything; he wanted to give her the world.

She placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him imploringly. "Please," she repeated, with a tad bit more force behind the word. "It would _really_ mean a lot to me."

XXX

_**12 July**_

XXX

"Buckle up, I'll show you the basics," he muttered reluctantly when they got in the car that morning. The streets were empty; Storybrooke wasn't a busy place, and no one was out this early on a Saturday.

Belle and Rumplestiltskin, however, were up at six. For the first time since he'd bought the car, Rumplestiltskin was sitting in the passenger seat, his heart thudding rapidly with a million and one worst-case scenarios.

"Here's your gear shift. P is for park, R for reverse, N for neutral, D for drive. There's your turn signal. Up is the right turn signal, down is left, and this turns your brights on. This one over here controls your windshield wipers. Here's your temperature controls, the radio, your hazard lights, the time and outdoor temperature are displayed here, and this is your rearview mirror. You can adjust it if you need."

Belle reached up timidly and adjusted the mirror until she was content with its position.

"Good. Now on your dashboard—"

"Why is it called a dashboard?" she wondered curiously.

"Because you'll dash your head against it if you crash," he replied instantly, with a completely straight face. Her eyes widened with horror. He broke into a devilish grin.

"I'm kidding," he assured her. "That was a quip." He reached forward and adjusted the temperature, turning the cool air up a bit. "Still as gullible as the day we met, I see," he muttered under his breath. She smacked his arm.

"No, you just take advantage of me when I'm nervous and high-strung," she countered.

"You've got to have your wits about you, love," he said, the words rolling off his tongue as he leaned forward to cup her chin in his hand. "I'll always be looking to catch you when you least expect it."

Belle's eyes flashed with desire; she closed the few inches of space between them, leaning over with the armrest digging uncomfortably into her side. Rumplestiltskin's hands blindly found her seatbelt and unbuckled it; it slid across her chest and she clambered over the center console, sitting in his lap with her legs straddling his torso, and slid her tongue into his mouth. She was kissing the living daylights out of him, quite frankly, and just when he was looking forward to where this was going, she pulled back, breathless.

"I was… You were going to…" She breathed heavily. "We should get back to the… lesson." Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," he said, accent thick. "I believe I was in the middle of making veiled references to that time I had you convinced I skinned children for their pelts?"

"Oh my gods you're so hot…"

They didn't get to their driving lesson that day, but they did make good use of the backseat. Rumplestiltskin was never quite able to look at his car the same way.

XXX

_**13 July**_

XXX

They got in the car the next day, this time committed to actually getting some driving done. As before, Rumplestiltskin got into the passenger seat and Belle took the wheel.

"Alright, do you remember what I taught you yesterday?" he began, forcing himself to act serious and professional despite the fact that all he could think about were, first, what they'd done the day before when he was supposed to be teaching Belle how to drive, and, second, the possibility of Belle crashing his car into a tree. He wasn't sure which to focus on.

"Boy do I," Bell said with a mischievous smile. He frowned at her.

"Do you want a repeat of what happened before, or do you actually want to learn how to drive?"

Belle bit her lip and grinned cheekily. "Sorry," she said. "It's just nice to be able to mess with you for once, instead of the other way around."

One eyebrow raised, Rumplestiltskin turned to her. Once it was clear that she'd had her fun and was now ready to be serious, he changed the subject back to the task at hand.

"I thought we'd start with just a slow drive around the neighborhood," he said. "It might be a little boring, but it's best to start slow. Or I assume it is. I've never taught anyone how to drive a car, so this is a first for both of us."

"Somehow, that's not very comforting," Belle said. Rumplestiltskin ignored her.

"So we'll just take a spin around the block and come back," he said. "Think you can manage that?"

Belle nodded; all it took was a moment for her to switch from her playful demeanor to a more serious approach. She seemed nervous, but put on a brave face. Rumplestiltskin had always admired that about her, from the day they met: her ability to face danger or uncertainty with her shoulders squared and her head held high. "Sure." There was the barest hint of a tremor in her voice. "How hard can it be?"

"That's the spirit," he said, though without much enthusiasm. His words to Belle – that he'd never taught anyone how to drive a car – didn't even capture the worst of it. Not only had he never taught anyone, but technically, he'd never actually learned to drive in the first place. When the curse had been cast, all his memories of the old world had been replaced with this entirely new identity, and he'd just _known_ how to drive, like one might know how to breathe. Of course, he _remembered_ learning to drive, but the memories were false, implanted, and, thinking back on them, they felt… flimsy.

And driving aside, Rumplestiltskin had never really been much of a teacher. Everything Bae had learned growing up, he'd learned from his mother, and the one time he could think of when he actually taught anyone anything was Regina, and that had frankly been a disaster.

But Belle was relying on him to know this stuff, and to teach it to her, and if she had faith in him, then maybe he could do it. She always pushed him past his preconceived limits.

Gathering his confidence, Rumplestiltskin instructed Belle. "Put your foot on the brake," he told her.

Belle pressed her foot down. The engine revved loudly, and she jumped. Rumplestiltskin winced.

"That would be the gas," he informed her. "Thank goodness we're still in park."

"Sorry," Belle apologized sheepishly. She corrected herself and instead pressed down on the brake.

"Good," Rumplestiltskin said, trying to sound encouraging and authoritative. "Now… shift into drive…"

Belle reached for the gearshift, fumbling for a minute, and set it into drive. Rumplestiltskin thanked the gods that his car wasn't a stick shift; it was much easier this way.

"And slowly take your foot off the brake…" The car inched forward in Rumplestiltskin's driveway. Belle chewed on her bottom lip, concentrating on his every word. "_Gently_ press the gas…"

The engine purred to life, and Belle guided the Cadillac to the end of the drive.

"Brake. Right turn signal." The turn signal clicked out its metronomic rhythm. "Turn your steering wheel _all_ the way to the left, take your foot off the brake, and press the gas. _Gently_."

The turn was jerky, but correctly executed. Rumplestiltskin would take what he could get. He was actually surprised at how calm he was managing to remain. Then again, they'd barely gotten started. The worst could still be yet to come. He shuddered at the thought. "Okay. Alright. Good." He heaved a sigh. Step One, done. Step Two… He honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. Looked like he was going to have to improvise.

"Good," he repeated, a bit self-consciously. "Now. Er. We're going to, um, drive around the block, right? And then we'll be done. Good?"

Belle nodded, looking to him expectantly. He realized she was awaiting further instruction.

"So… drive straight, then. Slow down when you get to the turn. And do try not to hit any mailboxes." Belle glared.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said sarcastically.

"I'm starting to think I should have written my will before getting in a car with you in the driver's seat," he said, teasing her to lighten her nerves as she started down the road. He instructed her when she needed to turn, and everything was going smoothly, all things considered.

"A car crash kill the all-powerful Dark One?" she said. "No, surely not."

"Do I detect sarcasm?" he asked. Belle kept her eyes on the road, but he could tell she was smirking at him.

"Nothing gets by you, does it?"

XXX

_**19 July**_

XXX

They were getting out of the car after their lesson on Saturday. Belle had been coming over every evening after closing the library to practice driving with Rumplestiltskin, and she was showing tremendous signs of improvement. Her turns were smooth, she'd worked out how to use all the various buttons and switches, and Rumplestiltskin never once feared for his life when she was driving. They hadn't tried her hand at parking yet. One step at a time, Rumplestiltskin had told her.

"You're getting better at this," he told her as they went inside. It had started to rain, so they'd cut their lesson short and were going to Rumplestiltskin's house for dinner. Belle wrung out her wet hair before stepping inside so she wouldn't drip all over the floor. The rain was coming down heavily, and even the short walk from the driveway to the front door had gotten the both of them soaked to the skin.

"It hasn't rained this hard since spring," she observed. "I guess the plants could use a little water, but… this is a bit excessive."

"We're in agreement there," Rumplestiltskin said, shoes squelching with every step he took. "Do you want to go upstairs and get us some towels? Or maybe we should just change."

"I'll bring down some pajamas," Belle offered, "While you throw together something for us to eat. I think there are leftovers in the fridge that you can warm up."

Belle's clothes dripped water all over the stairs as she went to fetch their things to change into. She left her clothes in a soggy heap on the bathroom floor, pinned up her hair so it at least wouldn't get water all over her back, and changed into a set of her pajamas. She was careful not to slip on the wetness she'd left behind on the staircase as she came down with Rumplestiltskin's pajamas, slippers, and dressing gown. She handed the pile of clothing to him once she reached the kitchen, and he ducked into the bathroom to change.

Meanwhile, Belle got settled at the kitchen table, where Rumplestiltskin had set out leftovers from the dinner they'd had together on… Thursday, was it? Or maybe Wednesday. The weekdays all blurred together in Belle's mind, with little to distinguish them.

Lightning flashed outside the window, and was followed shortly by a loud, startling clap of thunder. Belle jumped. She didn't mind thunderstorms, but this was a particularly violent one. The walls of the house seemed to rattle and the rain pounded noisily on the roof. She couldn't wait to curl up on the couch or in bed with Rumplestiltskin and forget about the dreadful weather.

Another clap of thunder sounded, and Belle could hear the wind gusting outside. The house was dimly lit; the few lights Rumplestiltskin had on weren't quite enough to chase the darkness out of the corners of the rooms. Shadows danced, and Belle found herself wishing Rumplestiltskin would hurry up and finish changing so she wouldn't have to be alone.

It was childish, to be spooked by such a silly thing as thunder, but Belle couldn't help remembering what storms like this one had been like when she'd been locked up in the hospital's closed ward. She had curled up on her cot with her thin, blue-gray blanket, huddled in the corner with nothing but her thoughts for company.

She shivered. A whole year she'd been out of that place, a whole year she'd had her memories back and had been with Rumplestiltskin, yet still those twenty-eight years in the closed ward haunted her in her darkest, most silent moments.

At least the nightmares had stopped. She was able to sleep soundly whenever she was with Rumplestiltskin, and at home she still had his winter coat that he'd let her borrow those months ago when it had helped her sleep at night.

Thunder rolled for the third time just as Belle heard the bathroom door click open. She spun around and breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight of Rumplestiltskin. She'd been alone for, at most, three minutes, but somehow she'd still managed to miss his presence.

"You didn't have to wait for me," he said, noticing her untouched plate of food.

"Huh? Oh." Belle shrugged. "My mind was… somewhere else." Rumplestiltskin limped over to the stovetop.

"Care for a cup of tea?" he asked.

"I'd love one," Belle answered. Nothing like a nice, hot cup of tea to soothe the nerves.

"Mind if I ask where exactly your thoughts were taking you?" Rumplestiltskin ventured. Belle debated telling him – she didn't want to make a big fuss over nothing – but in the end decided that she should.

"I just… thunderstorms are awful when you're all alone." She averted her eyes, stared sheepishly down at her plate and pushed her food around with her fork.

Rumplestiltskin, however, seemed to understand. Of course he did; he always understood. She should have realized that.

"I've always hated them," he agreed. "They were worse, however, in the Dark Castle. To be all alone in a huge, empty castle, winds howling and thunder roaring and lightning flashing until I couldn't hear myself think." He chuckled darkly. "I used to scream at the sky, in my crazier moments. Tell it to shut up and sod off, leave me alone to be miserable."

Belle paused a moment, looking up at him. "I used to do the same thing," she said. "In the hospital. When I was locked up… all the noise from outside bouncing around in my head, driving me insane. Well, _more_ insane." She couldn't help but laugh. "We're so damaged." He laughed as well.

"I guess that's why we're perfect for each other."

It was true, though. The two of them were damaged and broken and bent, but somehow their jagged edges managed to fit together. Being together made them whole.


	16. Summer Thunderstorms

**This Year**

_A/N: A little drama amidst the relentless fluff. It's not a year in the life of Rumbelle unless something traumatic happens. Fears will be faced, but first, a phone call interrupts Rumplestiltskin's sleep. The forest is a dangerous place on a dark and stormy night…_

XXX

**Summer**

**16: Summer Thunderstorms**

XXX

_**19 July**_

XXX

Rumplestiltskin woke in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The details of the dream slipped from his mind like smoke the instant he regained his lucidity; all he could remember was Belle calling out his name in a panicked voice.

Though he didn't seem the sort of man who would set much stock in dreams, Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but feel a little shaken. In the Enchanted Forest, when his magic was stronger, his dreams were often visions of the future, and he'd learned to always mind them. Of course he knew this wasn't the case in this new world, where magic was weak and unpredictable and even the great Rumplestiltskin couldn't tell you a thing about the future, but, as the saying goes, old habits die hard.

The sight of Belle, however, was more than enough to calm Rumplestiltskin's nerves. She was still sleeping peacefully beside him, completely unaware of his tossing and turning, her chest rising and falling beneath the crisp white sheets. He gazed at her fondly for a moment before getting up and out of bed, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. It was one thing he couldn't stand, the taste of morning. Even if he simply intended to get back in bed, he certainly wouldn't be doing it with morning breath.

It was storming something fierce outside; the sounds of rain and thunder accompanied the sounds of running water from the sink. Two minutes later, teeth clean and breath fresh, Rumplestiltskin slowly got back into bed, careful not to wake Belle. He slung his arm around her waist, drawing her near; he saw a smile play across her beautiful features as she subconsciously nestled against him. He curled himself gently around her slender figure, buried his nose in her hair, and closed his eyes.

But alas, the fates were against him, as they always seemed to be. Just as Rumplestiltskin was settling in to go back to sleep, his phone on the nightstand buzzed loudly and obnoxiously. Rumplestiltskin cursed, rolled over, and fumbled blindly for the noisy thing. "_Jefferson_," the caller ID read. He muttered under his breath about crazy portal-jumping hatters and complete disrespect for other people's normal sleeping hours and, not wanting to wake Belle, limped out into the hallway to take the call.

"You'd better have a hell of a good reason for phoning at this time of night," he grumbled into the phone, his voice and accent thickened by exhaustion. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath through his teeth in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to curb his aggression. "And I mean someone had better be _dying_."

"I need your help," came Jefferson's voice, rushed and frantic, from the other end. Rumplestiltskin heaved a longsuffering sigh; of _course_ Jefferson would be asking for his help in the middle of the night as opposed to, say, literally any other time. He practically spat his next words into the phone:

"And what do you need my help _with_, pray tell?"

"Are you at home?"

The oddness of the question was only slightly dimmed by the fact that that this was the Hatter, the town loon, who wasn't exactly known to ask questions that made any sort of contextual sense.

"Am I at home?" he repeated. "Yes. Why?" A distressing thought occurred to Rumplestiltskin: "You'd better not be here," he warned.

The line was silent. Rumplestiltskin shut his eyes and took a cleansing breath. One of these days, the citizens of this gods-forsaken town were going to drive him to a psychotic meltdown, but for now, he relied on his near-boundless self-restraint to keep from shooting somebody. (Needless to say, mornings brought out the worst in him.)

"Listen, it won't take long, I just need to… I just need your advice." The Hatter sounded so destitute, Rumplestiltskin almost took pity on him.

Almost.

"I fail to see why you would be coming to _me_ of all people for advice," Rumplestiltskin said flatly. His only real areas of expertise were law and magic. He highly doubted Jefferson had run into a legal dilemma, unless Emma Swan had finally filed that restraining order on him like she'd been threatening for so long, and Jefferson had enough magic of his own not to require Rumplestiltskin's additional assistance except in extreme cases.

"I'll explain everything in the car," Jefferson assured him. Rumplestiltskin refused to accept this as an answer.

"Why can't I advise you from the comfort of my own home?" he asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question. He wouldn't be getting into a car with a notorious madman without good reason, especially not in this rain.

The Hatter, however, had an equally reasonable response: "Because I left Grace sleeping at home and if she wakes up and I'm gone she'll worry."

Damn. That was a good reason. And Rumplestiltskin of all people couldn't blame Jefferson for making his only child his first priority. "And this couldn't wait until tomorrow?" was Rumplestiltskin's last protest. Jefferson's answer to that one was a little less watertight:

"I've been up all night; I can't sleep," Jefferson said. "I need your help. Please."

Cursing the altruism Belle had instilled in him, Rumplestiltskin reluctantly gave in. "Fine. Let me get dressed and I'll be out in a moment."

Rumplestiltskin returned to his room and quietly began changing out of his pajamas. The sheets shifted as Belle stirred. Rumplestiltskin froze, fearing he'd woken her. Her eyes opened a crack; she noticed his absence from the bed and propped herself up on her elbows to look around the room. When her gaze landed on him, standing at the foot of the bed buttoning his shirt, she pouted and wrinkled her nose in sleepy confusion.

"'S it morning 'lready?" she slurred, starting to sit up, her body weak with exhaustion. Rumplestiltskin quickly limped over and placed a placating hand on her shoulder.

"No, love, it's still very late," he told her soothingly. "Go back to sleep. Jefferson needs my help with something, but I'll be back before you know it." He stroked her hair and smiled fondly as she took a moment to absorb his words.

At a more reasonable hour, Belle might have asked questions like, "What could Jefferson possibly need your help with at one o'clock at night?" or, "What could Jefferson possibly have _said_ to make you _agree_ to help him at one o'clock at night?" But since it was so late and her brain was operating on autopilot, she merely nodded. "'Kay. Don't do anything illegal," she said, voice muffled by her pillow, and fell easily back into sleep. Rumplestiltskin left the room, descended the stairs, and slipped outside.

The night was dark, the moon blotted out by thick black storm clouds roiling with thunder. The only illumination was provided by the occasional streak of razor-edged lightning shattering the sky, and the telltale beams of the headlights and red glow of the taillights on Jefferson's car. The sounds of the car engine purring and the windshield wipers rapidly swishing back and forth were nearly drowned out by the loud and steady onslaught of rain.

Rumplestiltskin fetched an umbrella from the umbrella holder just inside the door, but the moment he opened it, a gust of wind threatened to tear it from his grip. Muttering curses under his breath, Rumplestiltskin tossed the useless instrument aside and cast a spell over himself to keep out the rain.

The lights in Jefferson's car came on abruptly; Jefferson shot Rumplestiltskin an impatient look through the window and gestured for him to hurry up. Rumplestiltskin made a spiteful point of walking down the drive as slowly as possible. The Hatter deserved it; apparently he didn't have the common decency not to wake people in the middle of the night with little explanation.

"You're intolerable," Jefferson informed him when he finally settled into the passenger seat of the car and secured his seatbelt. Rumplestiltskin turned to the Hatter with an expression of arrogance and loathing.

"I was under the impression you needed my help," he drawled, "But if you're just here to insult me, I'll be on my way."

Jefferson glared. He wouldn't be baited so easily. "Are you finished acting like a child?" he asked. Rumplestiltskin gave this some thought. Thunder crashed.

"Yes, I suppose so," he decided.

With a roll of his eyes, Jefferson stepped on the gas, and the car skidded to a start.

The farther along they got, the more Rumplestiltskin was glad he'd opted to cut Belle's driving lesson short earlier that day; the conditions couldn't possibly be worse. Rain was coming down in sheets, the roads were slick, the winds were relentless, and every time another clap of thunder sounded, it momentarily startled both Jefferson and Rumplestiltskin. Adding to that the darkness of the night and Jefferson's apparent lack of sleep, and Rumplestiltskin was beginning to understand why no one else was on the roads.

It seemed they were driving into the heart of the storm; the thunder grew louder and the rain fell heavier. When the houses and shops and well-paved streets of Storybrooke gave way to a winding road leading into the forest, Rumplestiltskin realized that his earlier assumption – that the conditions couldn't be worse – had been wholly untrue.

Lightning flashed nearby, followed by a noisy roll of thunder. The trees on either side of the road loomed dangerously overhead. Jefferson continued driving in the direction of his isolated house, looking entirely unconcerned with their current situation. Rumplestiltskin was beginning to regret ever getting out of bed.

When lightning struck a second time, it seemed to come down dangerously close to where they were driving. Jefferson noticed as well; he slammed on his brakes when the flash of blinding light illuminated the sky just ahead of them.

Three sounds rang out at once in that moment: Rumplestiltskin swore, the car's tires screeched, and a deafening crack resounded above their heads.

Something heavy landed on the car as it jerked to a halt; the roof caved in under the pressure and both Rumplestiltskin and Jefferson were thrown back violently against their seats by the airbags. In his last moment of clarity, Rumplestiltskin felt something warm and sticky on his face before he passed out.

XXX

She was dreaming about Rumplestiltskin, something pleasant she wouldn't remember once she woke up. Her hand curled around a fistful of the bedspread and the faintest smile played across her features. She hadn't had a fitful rest in weeks; all her time spent with Rumplestiltskin had seemingly cured her of her nightmares.

Meanwhile, an incessant buzz drifted up from the floor, where she'd left her mobile phone plugged in and charging. It wasn't enough to wake her up from her tranquil sleep, and so the perpetual buzzing droned on and on in the otherwise silent room.

"_9 Missed Calls_."

It was by chance alone, some quirk of good fortune for once working in her favor, that she happened to be tossing and turning more than usual that night. She rolled right out of bed, waking up before she hit the ground and just in time to catch herself before banging her head.

Breath coming out quick and shallow, she stumbled to her feet, dizzy and disoriented. It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts and react properly to the situation: She wasn't dying, she wasn't in any sort of danger, she had just taken a bit of a tumble. It was strange, though; she hadn't fallen out of bed since she was a child. She looked over to make sure she hadn't woken Rumplestiltskin, only to find his side of the bed empty, the sheets still rumpled where he'd been laying. His absence temporarily confused her, before she remembered she and Rumplestiltskin's earlier exchange when he'd woken her.

"Right," she muttered aloud to herself. "Jefferson." Jefferson had needed Rumplestiltskin's help – in the middle of the night, for some reason, and that was a little suspicious – and Rumplestiltskin had left, but only for a short while, he'd said.

How long had it been since Rumplestiltskin had told her he was leaving? Why wasn't he back yet? Maybe it hadn't been that long. In the absence of a clock in the room, Belle reached down to check the time on her phone.

"_10 Missed Calls_."

"What the hell?" She clicked on the missed call notification and the screen popped up with the list of who'd phoned her:

"_Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson_."

Confused, Belle tapped on his name to call him back. He picked up after half a ring.

"Belle! Finally!" He sounded frenzied, almost hysterical. A twinge of worry tugged at Belle's conscious mind, waking her up more fully. "I've been calling nonstop."

"Yes, I was asleep," she said plainly, still working on banishing the sleepy fog from her brain. "What… what happened? Is something wrong?"

There was a pause, for only just a moment, but that moment was long enough to raise the alarms in Belle's head. She stood straight up, clutching the phone to her ear.

"Jefferson, what happened?" she demanded again, more assertively.

"I asked Rumplestiltskin for his help with something and came to pick him up," Jefferson explained, his words a little rushed. In the background, Belle thought she heard voices, someone yelling orders, why was that voice so familiar? Something about the sounds pulled at Belle's memory and she was filled with an icy dread. She had a hunch; she just hoped it was wrong. "It's pretty bad outside," Jefferson continued. "Lightning struck a tree by the side of the road and one of the branches fell and hit our car."

"And?" Belle practically shouted, already taking the stairs two at a time, grabbing a jacket and fishing through Rumplestiltskin's coat closet for his keys.

"I called an ambulance, Emma, and then you," Jefferson told her. "They're taking us to the hospital. We both got knocked out; Rumplestiltskin's still unconscious. I think he's bleeding…"

"WHAT?" Belle screamed, bolting out the door, barefoot and still in her pajamas. She got into Rumplestiltskin's car and turned the key in the ignition.

"Do you want me to call someone to take you to the hospital?" Jefferson asked. The voices in the background increased in volume; Belle recognized one of them as Dr. Whale.

"No, I'll drive myself," Belle said determinedly. "I have Rum's car."

"You know how to drive?" Jefferson asked, sounding unsure.

"A little," Belle admitted. "I've been doing it for a week, but I'd sooner watch hell freeze over than just sit here while _Rumplestiltskin_ is _unconscious_ in the _hospital_."

"Belle, it's dark out and this is the worst storm we've had in years," Jefferson told her. "It's too dangerous—"

"Fuck you!"

Belle hung up her phone and put the car in drive.


	17. Bedside

**This Year**

_A/N: The worst storm Storybrooke has seen in years is still in full force. Fears will be faced, cars will be driven (illegally, perhaps), unlikely heroes will come to the rescue, all leading up to the one place in Storybrooke Belle actively tries to avoid. And what was Jefferson asking Rumplestiltskin's advice for, anyways? All will be revealed…_

_Disclaimer: I'm posting this from my mobile phone, so any spelling or grammar errors are a bit hard to catch and all AutoCorrect's fault. Frankly you lot are lucky to get a chapter; I'm on vacation (Disney World, whoo!). I'm only doing this because I love you._

XXX

**Summer**

**17: Bedside**

XXX

**_20 July_**

XXX

The tires of Rumplestiltskin's car sloshed through the rainwater running down the streets. Even though she was in a rush to get to the hospital, Belle wasn't stupid. She drove slowly – _way_ below the speed limit – and carefully. She was desperate to get to the hospital, but she certainly didn't want to be getting there by ambulance.

A part of her was silently freaking out about where she was going, while the major part of her brain focused on the road ahead (what she could see of it, anyways). At the end of this hopefully brief and undoubtedly traumatic journey was the hospital, where Regina had kept her locked up for a full twenty-eight years, frozen in time and without even her memories to occupy her. Where she'd been trapped, with nothing but a tiny slot of a window too high up to even see through and an empty mind slowly spiraling into madness. (_Sometimes she could see a bird fly across the patch of sky visible through her window and wished she could fly away from the terrible place._)

When Jefferson had broken into the closed ward and let Belle out, she had, for the first time that she could remember, tasted fresh air and felt sunshine and smelled something other than medicine and hand sanitizer and mildew and dust. She'd had every intention never to return to that claustrophobic cell, would have sooner died than gone back.

And of course, she hadn't gone back. She had found Rumplestiltskin and the curse had been broken and everything had been (eventually) well again. After all the chaos of curse-breaking had died down, the Sheriff had ensured that Regina's barely legal makeshift "asylum" was immediately cut off and closed down. Logically, Belle knew there was no reason for her obsessive avoidance of the hospital. In fact, she'd been in there since her imprisonment, but only when she'd had to be, when it had been entirely unavoidable, and she'd passed by the place frequently enough, since the only practicing doctor in Storybrooke who didn't work in the hospital had his offices right across the street from it, and everyone went there for their routine check-ups and appointments.

Going to the hospital willingly and of her own accord, however, was an entirely different story and something Belle had never done. But, Belle supposed, when she'd gotten involved with Rumplestiltskin, even from the start, she'd known it wouldn't be easy. She'd been ready to do the brave thing then, so why not now?

Facing her fear – more of an aversion, really – of the hospital was hardly the toughest thing she'd had to do for true love.

Driving an expensive car in the middle of the night in the worst storm Storybrooke had seen in years while her true love lay injured in a hospital bed, however, easily made the top ten.

She turned down the road that she knew would lead her to the hospital, eyes fixated intently on where she was going, had to squint past the rapidly swishing windshield wipers battling the relentless onslaught of rain. The car's headlights barely illuminated a short stretch of road in front of her, but fortunately it was just enough for her eyes to register a streak of black and white darting towards the road.

Panicking, Belle slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid the oncoming… thing. The tires screeched in protest, and she felt a jolt as the car grazed the curb. Putting the car into park, Belle stepped out to see what she'd hit, thoughts of Rumplestiltskin momentarily taking a backseat in her mind.

A familiar sound echoed through the booming thunder and crashing rain: a dog's bark. Belle gasped.

"Pongo!"

The loveable Dalmatian bounded up to her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had nearly been hit by an oncoming vehicle. Belle crouched down in front of Pongo, scratching his ears while she did a quick scan of him to check for any injuries. Seeing none, she then looked around for Archie; if Pongo was here, surely his owner couldn't be far. But what would Archie Hopper be doing out in the middle of the night in the rain?

Sure enough, Archie was nowhere to be seen. Nervously biting her lower lip, torn between her frantic worry for Rumplestiltskin's wellbeing and her sense of compassion and common decency that told her to first do something about Pongo, Belle was for a moment stymied by her decision. She relented and opened the back door of the car, letting Pongo climb onto the backseat. Rumplestiltskin would have a fit when he saw the muddy paw prints all over the interior of his car, but at the moment that wasn't really Belle's concern.

She got into the car after Pongo, drenched from head to toe, and, after wiping her hands dry on the only available dry surface – the passenger seat cushion – picked up her phone and dialed Archie.

Thankfully, despite the late hour, he actually picked up, though from his voice Belle could tell he had been sleeping. "Hullo?" he dimly asked, mumbling into the phone. "Whossit?"

"It's Belle," she informed him. She wanted this to go as quickly as possible; she was, after all, pressed for time. "I found your dog on the street, just wandering around. He ran into the road right in front of me; I nearly hit him."

"Oh, wow, Belle, I'm so sorry," Archie replied, sounding far more awake now that he'd heard this somewhat shocking news. "I had no idea. Uh, listen, where are you?"

"Just down the street from Granny's, at the—" Belle began, but Jiminy cut her off.

"Yes, yes, I see you." He hung up. Belle wrinkled her nose in confusion and stared quizzically at the phone. She had but a moment to puzzle over Archie's words before she was scared out of her wits by a pounding on the car window. She screamed.

When she turned to face her attacker through the glass, however, Belle saw it was only Archie, his glasses rendered utterly useless in the rain. Belle threw the car door open when he stepped back.

"Archie, how on earth did you get here so fast?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Sorry for startling you," he said over the rain. "I was in the diner when the storm hit; I walked to work this morning but there's no way I'm walking home in this. I was staying the night there. Pongo must've been worried that I didn't come back." He then evidently became aware of the peculiar circumstances of their encounter, and added, "Belle, isn't this Rumplestiltskin's car?"

Belle sighed and ran a hand through her hair, resettling into her previous state of worry. "He's in the hospital; I'm on my way there."

Archie's expression immediately turned to one of concern. "What happened?" he asked.

"I'd tell you, but I really am in a rush," Belle said apologetically. "I don't know if he's okay."

Yet again, Archie came to a belated realization: "Belle, haven't you only been driving a week? It's raining like the end of the world and it's the middle of the night!" Belle shrugged, now getting antsy. She had to go; she had to get to the hospital and find Rumplestiltskin, make sure he was alright. Archie, however, seemed to have other ideas.

"That's it, Belle, get in the passenger seat," he told her firmly, leaving no room for compromise. Belle immediately realized what he was planning.

"No, Archie, I couldn't ask you to—"

"You saved Pongo, okay?" Archie said, even as Belle got in on the passenger side and he strapped himself into the driver's seat. "Who knows what sort of trouble he would have gotten himself into if you hadn't found him? I owe you one."

"Thank you," Belle said.

"Not at all."

XXX

Belle burst into the hospital, dripping water onto the floor, still barefoot and wearing just pajamas and a jacket. She must've given the receptionist quite a fright; she demanded to be told where Rumplestiltskin was.

When she arrived at the proper room, she found Jefferson and Emma sitting outside in the waiting area. Jefferson was a wreck; he looked like he'd seen a ghost. His head was bandaged and he held his hat in his lap, his fingers twisted together tightly, knuckles white. Emma had one hand on his arm in a gesture of friendly comfort but a distracted, serious expression on her face; she looked miles away. Belle ran up to them, breathing heavily and clutching her arms around herself, feeling suddenly small and helpless.

"Belle!" Emma exclaimed once she saw her. She shot to her feet, and Jefferson turned to look up at her with an expression of fear and guilt.

"Jefferson told me you were driving yourself," Emma remarked in her authoritative Sheriff voice. "It's a miracle you're not hurt. That's extremely dangerous and irresponsible."

"It's okay, I ran into Archie – Dr. Hopper – on my way here and he drove," Belle said quickly. "Where's Rumplestiltskin?"

Emma wrung her hands and bit her lip. "They're… not letting anyone in," she said. Belle gaped.

"What? No," she said insistently. "I did not come all the way here in the dark, in the rain, barefoot, and in my _pajamas_, to be told I can't see him!"

"I'm sorry, Belle, but there's nothing we can do," Emma told her. "You're welcome to wait with us, though."

Tapping her foot and gnawing her lower lip in impatience, Belle reluctantly agreed to join them on the worn chairs. Beside her, Jefferson was staring fixedly at his hat with newfound fascination. Being the sort of person who had a gift of empathizing with others, Belle was able to discern the cause of Jefferson's distress, even in her highly distracted state.

"I don't blame you," she assured him quietly, her gaze soft and forgiving. From what she'd heard of what happened, it didn't sound like Jefferson could have done anything to prevent it. It had happened, and now all they could do was wait and hope Dr. Whale was able to remedy whatever the problem was.

"I do," Jefferson said. His voice was hollow and haunted. He turned to meet Belle's gaze. "If I hadn't asked his help in the middle of the night…" He trailed off, leaving the implications up to Belle.

"It's not your fault." Belle knew her words would do little to ease Jefferson's conscience, but she had to try. She paused, then asked, "What were you asking his help for, anyhow?"

Jefferson hesitated; his gaze slid down to the floor and he shifted in his seat. Belle narrowed her eyes. "It better not have been anything illegal." At that, Emma seemed to start paying closer attention to what was being said. "Or anything to do with magic."

"It wasn't," Jefferson assured her emphatically.

This offered Belle at least a little comfort, but she still could not relax with Rumplestiltskin behind the door across the hall in some amount of pain. Taking a deep breath, Belle turned to Jefferson again. "Tell me exactly what happened," she instructed. Jefferson refused to meet her eyes as he told her.

"We were driving in the woods, almost to my house," he began. "Lightning hit a tree by the road and one of the lower branches fell. I braked and just as we came to a stop, the branch fell on the roof of the car. I don't know what knocked Rumplestiltskin out – the airbag, the roof, or his head slamming against his seat – but something did. I passed out too, but only for a few minutes. Then I called an ambulance and the Sheriff's office. When I saw Rumplestiltskin was still out cold, I called you. Before the ambulance came, another branch fell and shattered the windshield." He rolled up his shirtsleeve, revealing bloodied bandages all up his forearm.

"I blocked most of the glass with my arm," Jefferson said. "Rumplestiltskin was in pretty bad shape, though…" He trailed off, realizing this wasn't really helping to calm Belle's worries.

Belle buried her face in her hands. She imagined all the terrible things that could have happened. What if Rumplestiltskin didn't wake up? What if he never woke up?

As if on cue, Dr. Whale emerged from the emergency room, offering Belle a small, albeit forced smile.

"Belle," he said, his eyes scanning over her dirty, wet, barefoot and pajama-clad form. She self-consciously wrung her dripping hair and tugged at the hem of her jacket as she stood.

"How is he?" she asked, her pent-up panic and worry bordering on hysteria. Dr. Whale held up his hands placatingly.

"He'll be fine," Whale assured her. "He'll make a full recovery. He's still unconscious, but I ran some tests and didn't find any signs of brain damage. Mostly he just needed some bandaging up, a few pieces of glass removed." Belle shuddered at the thought. Whale gestured to the open door, through which Belle's love was lying in some unknown state of injury. "Would you like to come in? It would be good for him to wake up to someone he cares about."

Unable to form words, Belle simply nodded. Whale stepped aside to usher her in and Belle walked stiffly through the doorway, terrified of what she'd find.

Inside, Rumplestiltskin was laying on a hospital bed, eyes shut and mouth set in a troubled frown. He had stitches in one cheek and his shoulders were bandaged like Jefferson's arm. His head, like Jefferson's, was bandaged as well. Overall, he looked battered, but not severely hurt. Belle breathed a little easier.

She was at his side in an instant, dragging the chair by the window over to his bedside and finding his hand amid the sheets so she could hold it in hers. She looked up at Whale with wide, pitiful eyes. "How long?" she asked, trusting he knew what she meant: How long until he woke? Whale shrugged.

"There's no way to tell," he informed her. "It shouldn't be long, though. And you're welcome to stay the rest of the night." Belle nodded, and after a moment, Whale took his leave, allowing Belle a moment alone.

Minutes later, Emma walked in and stood opposite Belle. "If everything's alright, I'll be going," she said. Once again, Belle nodded mutely, her face an expressionless mask. Emma shifted her weight uncomfortably like there was something else she wanted to say. Belle waited patiently until she spoke.

"A, uh," she took a breath, "A normal Sheriff would probably ticket you for driving without a license, but, uh, I guess as long as no one was hurt… And it's not like there's a DMV around here, so… Anyways, just, uh, be more careful next time."

"Thank you," Belle said quietly. Giving a nod of understanding, Emma left.

Belle only had a precious few moments to herself before Jefferson ambled slowly in, hands in his pockets and eyes downcast. He looked up at her from beneath his hat.

"It was about Emma," he confessed. Belle gave him a questioning look, and he explained: "The help. I needed help with…" He sighed. "Emma and Henry have been coming over to join Grace and I for dinner every week. And last week… I screwed up. I needed advice, and I figured I'd go to him because, well…"

"You knew he had experience in the area of screwing up?" Belle finished for him.

"I didn't know what to do," Jefferson admitted. He collapsed in the chair beside her, taking off his hat and leaning forward with his head in his hands.

"What did you do?" Belle asked, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. He looked up at her with uncertainty and helplessness in his eyes. Belle knew she was in no state to be offering comfort and advice, but she also knew enough to recognize a person in need. Besides, she still owed Jefferson so much for freeing her from the closed ward.

"I offended her, I guess," he said with a shrug, "Or scared her off. I don't know. She asked about Grace's mother; it just came up in conversation and I didn't know how to tell her. So I showed her." He reached into one of the many pockets of his jacket and withdrew a very familiar-looking box. "It's an enchanted music box."

He held it out to Belle, and she took it, turning it over and over in her hands. "Rumplestiltskin has one of these," she said. Jefferson nodded.

"You wind it up and think of the memories you want to show. Everyone else who hears the song falls into a deep sleep and dreams your memories."

Belle handed the box back to Jefferson, and he pocketed it. "So you used this on Emma?" He nodded. "And what did she say?"

Jefferson averted his eyes. "She understandably was freaked out. She felt violated, since I'd used magic on her without asking. And she took Henry and stormed out, and hasn't spoken to me since, until tonight." He chuckled humorlessly. "At first she thought I was faking when I called and told her what happened." He rested his chin in his hand. "I don't know what I can do."

For a minute, Belle gave this some thought. "Just explain," she said. "Go to the Sheriff station – she'll feel more comfortable in her own territory – and tell her why you did what you did, and apologize for what you did wrong."

"You really think that will work?" Jefferson asked with genuine concern. Belle shrugged.

"It worked on me."

XXX

Belle was determined to stay up in case Rumplestiltskin showed any signs of waking, but after sitting in uninterrupted silence with only her thoughts and worries for company for so long, she drifted off into a fitful sleep. Her nightmares were back, different from before but just as vivid, just as frightful. Watching Rumplestiltskin die in a violent car crash; seeing his gruesomely mangled body afterwards.

She woke in late morning to a crystal blue sky, after sleeping maybe five hours, and found that, among other things, someone had been in and changed Rumplestiltskin's bandages. Her hand was still clenching Rumplestiltskin's, and he still showed no signs of stirring. For close to an hour she sat there, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. It was comforting to watch him breathe, to know it meant he was alive.

"Hey there, girly," came a voice from the door. Belle looked up to see Red carrying a paper bag in one hand and a Tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies in the other. She held them both up. "I brought sustenance."

Belle smiled gratefully, realizing how hungry she was. "Thanks, I'm starved."

Red handed over the bag, which was full of food from Granny's, and set the cookies on the windowsill behind them, sitting in the chair next to Belle. She kept a friendly smile on her face the whole time, making a point not to gawk at Rumplestiltskin's sorry state.

"Archie told me what happened," she said. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Belle shook her head. "If I think too much about it, I'll start to doubt," she said. "I know he'll be fine; Whale said he'll make a full recovery. I just…" She shrugged.

"I think I get it," Red said. "I had a scare like this with Granny once. She fell down the stairs. She was alright in the end, obviously, but for a while I wasn't sure she would be."

"Exactly," Belle said, glad her best friend understood. "I don't—" She cut off when she felt something. Rumplestiltskin's fingers twitched; she held her breath and set down the sandwich she was devouring. Red looked at her closely.

"Is he waking?" she asked.

"I think so," Belle said, practically trembling with anticipation. She needed Rumplestiltskin to wake up, needed him to be alright. Red stood.

"I'll let you be alone, yeah?" Belle gave her a grateful look before returning her full attention to Rumplestiltskin. He was stirring, his breathing speeding up, and, at long last, his eyes cracked open.

Belle leaned forward; he gave her hand a squeeze. Immediately, he tried to sit up, and flinched in pain. "Don't try to sit," Belle instructed. He set his head back down on the pillow and instead turned to face her. She gently brought her hand to his cheek, careful to mind his stitches. "You were in a car accident with Jefferson."

"I remember," he said, his voice rough from lack of use. "We were hit by a tree branch. I was bleeding."

"Your forehead," she told him, running her fingers along the edge of the bandage. "Dr. Whale fixed you up," she told him. "He says you'll make a full recovery."

She wondered when she should tell him about the plans she'd made while he was unconscious. She figured there was no time like the present.

"I gave it some thought," she said, "And I want you to stay in my apartment for a while. Just until you're better," she was quick to add. When Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow in question, she continued: "I have to open the library on weekdays, but I also want to take care of you. So you'll stay with me, and help me out in the library, and I can help you get well again."

"Do I have any say in this decision?" Rumplestiltskin asked. Belle shook her head.

"No." He cracked a smile.

"Okay." There was a long but not uncomfortable pause before he said, "Thank you."

"For what?" Belle asked, confused. He gave her hand another squeeze.

"For being here," he said simply. Belle smiled and pressed a soft and gentle kiss to his cheek, and then on his lips. Rumplestiltskin lifted one arm and his hand went to her hair, holding her close.

"I'll always be here," she promised, murmuring it against his lips before he leaned up slightly to kiss her again.

When he finally released her, he found he had strength enough to sit up slightly now. He looked her over with concern.

"Did you come here wearing that?" he asked, making a gesture that encompassed her zip-up jacket and pajamas. Belle shrugged.

"I was worried about you. I didn't have time to change."

"Or to put on shoes, I see," Rumplestiltskin said with one raised eyebrow. His expression quickly changed from one of amusement to one of curiosity. "How DID you get here?" he asked.

Belle paused, her mouth open slightly as she tried to think of the least incriminating yet still truthful response. "I, uh..." Rumplestiltskin sat up straighter, clearly worried.

"Belle, did you drive here?" She averted her eyes and nodded sheepishly. "In my car?" he demanded. She nodded again.

"I didn't crash it, I swear," she rushed to say.

Rumplestiltskin took her hand in his, clutching it tightly. "Belle, love, never mind the car" he said. "You could have been hurt. You could have been _killed_."

"I had to get to you," she protested. "Besides, I ran into Archie partway here and he drove me the rest of the way."

"When you say 'ran into'—"

"No, I didn't hit him with the car," Belle said. "I was very safe."

Rumplestiltskin leaned forward to kiss her a third time. "I don't know why I ever doubted you." Their lips met; Belle tilted her head and deepened the kiss.

The door opened. "Oh!" Belle looked up to see Red standing in the doorway, a little taken aback by the sight before her. "I was going to ask how he is, but I don't really need to anymore." Belle blushed furiously; Rumplestiltskin's hand was at her waist and remained there despite Red's presence.

Just then, Dr. Whale walked in, looking down at a clipboard, oblivious to what was going on. "How is he, Belle?"

"Well enough, judging by what I just walked in on," Red remarked. Belle turned even redder. It didn't help that Rumplestiltskin's hand was a little lower on her waist than was entirely appropriate.

Dr. Whale looked up, saw Belle blushing red as a beet and Rumplestiltskin raising one eyebrow, daring the doctor to say anything.

"Ah," was all Whale said. "I see. Well, Mr. Gold, I'll have to keep you here until we can reaffirm that no damage was done to your brain, and then you'll be free to go. We'll replace the bandages once more before you leave, as well. The stitches are dissolvable, so you won't have to come back in to get those taken out. You'll have a scar on your cheek; the glass went in pretty deep. If you experience any vertigo or nausea in the next week, you'll have to let us know." He set his clipboard aside. "Now let's get those tests out of the way so you can get out of here."

XXX

One of the nurses wheeled Rumplestiltskin out to the parking lot in a wheelchair. He was not amused, and kept insisting he could walk just fine on his own, but no one listened to him, which in turn irritated him further, because he loathed being ignored.

Archie was waiting with the car out front; Belle helped Rumplestiltskin get into the front seat. He was still a little wobbly on his legs, more so than usual, and leaned heavily on his cane.

"Good morning, Belle, Rumplestiltskin," Archie said kindly once they'd all gotten in. "How did everything go?"

"It was nerve-wracking for a while," Belle admitted, "But Dr. Whale says he should make a full recovery. How's Pongo?"

"He's with Red," Archie said. "Where to? Rumplestiltskin, are we going to your house?"

"To the library, please," Belle said.

When they arrived, Belle thanked Archie for everything and Archie left Rumplestiltskin with the keys and the car. Belle took Rumplestiltskin's arm and he leaned on her as they took the stairs to Belle's apartment. She deposited him on the couch and went to the kitchen to put together something for them to eat.

"Do you want any help with that?" Rumplestiltskin offered as she brought over their plates. Belle shook her head.

"No, you stay put," she told him. She set their plates on the coffee table and sat next to him on the sofa in front of the television. "I'll take care of everything." Rumplestiltskin slung his arm across her shoulders and kissed her sweetly.

"You're spoiling me," he said, "And I love it." The kiss lasted a while longer before Belle leaned away slightly and bit back a smile.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Gold?" she asked sultrily. Rumplestiltskin grinned.

"I can think of a few things…" His fingers curled around her waist and dragged her near. She giggled and squirmed out of his grasp.

"Rum!" she scolded. "You just got out of the hospital." Rumplestiltskin grabbed her by her wrist.

"I'll be careful," he promised, but Belle shook her head.

"How about you at least come sit by me and we make out like a couple of teenagers?" he instead suggested. Belle considered it before giving in.

"I can't say no to you." And she slipped back into his arms.


	18. Sugar

**This Year**

_A/N: Rumplestiltskin just needs to borrow a cup of sugar. Idea courtesy of Fire's Shadow123._

_Disclaimer: Still on my mobile phone. Still at Disney._

XXX

**Summer**

**18: Sugar**

XXX

**_28 July_**

XXX

Late one night in Belle's apartment, Belle was curled up against Rumplestiltskin's bare chest, one arm tucked between them and one slung over him, tracing nonsense patterns on his back. Her fingers trailed along the scars on his shoulders, razor-edged slashes from where the glass of Jefferson's windshield had pierced his skin. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything. He didn't want her pity.

He nestled closer to her and Belle sunk into a deep, untroubled sleep.

XXX

**_29 July_**

XXX

Rumplestiltskin's first night back in his own home after the accident was spent alone. After so much time with Belle – he'd been with her nonstop since getting out of the hospital – it probably wasn't the best idea for Rumplestiltskin to quit her so suddenly. Dr. Hopper – Rumplestiltskin couldn't refer to him as "Dr. Cricket" with a straight face – had informed him once in an informal therapy session that love could act like a drug when it came to its affects on the brain, and Rumplestiltskin believed it, now more than ever. He was going through Belle withdrawal after only a day.

Late that night, or perhaps it was early in the morning, he woke in a panic – curse these nightmares – from such a vivid dream that for several moments after waking, he was convinced he was still living it.

It was an old nightmare, one he'd been having ever since that snake Regina planted it in his mind. In the dream, he was still in the old world, in his Dark One form. He knelt at the base of one of the North Tower of Maurice's castle, from which Belle had thrown herself. She was dressed elegantly in her golden dress, although it was barely recognizable stained with blossoming crimson blood and tangled around her broken body.

When Rumplestiltskin woke, he sat bolt upright and breathed heavily, his heart pounding and his mind racing. Even after he'd anchored himself in reality, he couldn't get the image of Belle from his mind. Her hair limply splayed across her face, her limbs like those of a broken doll, her jaw askew, blood everywhere.

That settled it. He pushed back the covers of the bed and stood, groping for his cane propped up against the nightstand. He was pretty sure he did further damage to his knee in that car accident; it pained him more than ever to walk. He limped down the stairs and out the door to his car.

There was a dent on the fender of his precious Cadillac; he'd noticed it first when Dr. Hopper had picked him and Belle up from the hospital. He knew it must have been from when Belle drove that night in the rain – it certainly hadn't been there before – but he'd refrained from saying anything. Belle had been pretty high-strung lately, what with taking such good care of him _and_ running the library. He hadn't wanted to put any more pressure on her.

Under normal circumstances, Rumplestiltskin was a meticulously safe driver. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd expect from someone like Rumplestiltskin, someone who viewed hard and fast rules as more actual guidelines, arbitrary and optional. But even as his business dealings toed the line of legality, on the road he observed every law to the letter. He always wore his seatbelt, drove the speed limit, and stopped at stop signs even if no one else was on the road. He slowed down at yellow lights and would not drive with so much as a drop of alcohol in his system. But today, in his frenzied and distracted state, he may have driven a tad faster than the speed limit, and bypassed a stop sign or two, on his way to the library.

Naturally he still had his key to the library, and a key to Belle's apartment above the library. Without thinking, he took the stairs straight up to Belle's rooms and flung open the door. It hit the wall with a bang; he wasn't exactly taking care to be quiet. It didn't matter. He had to see Belle, consequences be damned. (Later, thinking back on this experience, Rumplestiltskin would realize that he and Belle were not in the habit of taking the consequences of their actions into due consideration. This was probably the root of many of the problems they faced as a couple.)

"Belle!" he shouted, thumping past the sitting room and the kitchen, bursting into Belle's bedroom. She was in the process of stretching her arms and yawning, awoken by all the noise Rumplestiltskin was making.

Seeing Belle awake and, more importantly, alive did a great deal to calm Rumplestiltskin's nerves. He was able to temporarily banish the horrible dream-image from his head.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Belle groaned, upset at having been so rudely awakened at this unreasonable hour. Rumplestiltskin stood, mouth agape, searching for an answer to her question, an excuse he could give as to why he was in her apartment, in her _bedroom_, in the middle of the night.

"I…" He gestured vaguely with his hands, as if he could reach out and pluck an answer from thin air. "I, uh… needed to borrow a cup of sugar?"

Belle gave him a withering look.

"Okay, okay," he said quickly, "Bad excuse. I…" He sighed. May as well just tell the truth, he figured, and hope for the best. Hope she didn't see him as paranoid and ridiculous, or at least any more than she already did.

"I had to see you," he admitted. "I had… a bit of a scare."

Belle's irritation immediately turned to concern, like someone had flicked a switch in her brain. It was an uncanny trait she possessed, her endless supply of compassion. She sat up and beckoned for him to come over; he sat on the edge of her bed and she placed a hand on his arm to reassure him of her presence. "A nightmare?" she asked, and he wondered how she knew.

"Yes, but how—?" he began to ask, but she interrupted him with a brief, chaste kiss.

"I know nightmares," she answered cryptically, with a clouded expression in her eyes. "Whatever it was, it's not real, and it's over now. I'm here."

Rumplestiltskin was reassured, however, still haunted by the dream, he slid into bed beside her and took her into his arms. Belle fit her head into the crook of his neck and sighed against him.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked hopefully. His answer was immediate.

"Move in with me."

Where did that come from? Rumplestiltskin hadn't been thinking about having Belle move in. Sure, the thought had occurred to him, but he hadn't been giving it any serious consideration. He'd always assumed Belle would want to stay in her rooms above the library and hadn't asked. Only now that he'd blurted it out so clumsily and hastily did he realize how much he wanted it.

He wanted Belle to live with him again.

Belle flipped over and gaped up at him. "Are you serious?" she stammered.

"I am," he said. She shook her head.

"Rum, I—"

"Before you say anything," he interjected quickly, "I would drive you anywhere you wanted, including to the library every morning. We could rent out the apartment to Ella and Thomas. And it makes sense, I mean, half your things are at my place already and—"

"Rumplestiltskin!" Belle interrupted, laughing. "Stop." She kissed him sweetly. "I would love to move in with you."

Rumplestiltskin turned to her, a little surprised by her willingness. "You… would?" he repeated. Belle laughed again.

"Of course I would, you ridiculous man," she said. "Your house is lovely, it's not overly far, and, well, I love you. I want to be with you." Rumplestiltskin was relieved. Belle moving in would mean he'd be able to have her near him every night.

"I love you too, Belle," he told her, leaning over her to capture her lips and kiss her deeply.

XXX

**_30 July_**

XXX

"Okay, that's the last of it."

Belle stood proudly before the small pile of cardboard boxes containing the few possessions that hasn't already ended up at Rumplestiltskin's house one way or another. Rumplestiltskin chuckled, amused by her sense of accomplishment. When she didn't make a move to begin piling the boxes into the van they'd borrowed from Maurice's Game of Thorns flower shop, Belle and Rumplestiltskin shared a pointed look. After a moment, he spoke.

"I'm certainly not carrying those," he told her. "I'm not eager to throw my back out in addition to my bad knee."

Belle scoffed. "You're not old enough to throw your back out."

"One hundred and seventy-five, dearie," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes but nevertheless picked up the first box, heaving it into the van and wrapping her arms around another box. Before long they had everything piled into the car and Rumplestiltskin got into the driver's seat to take it to his house.

It came as a complete surprise to Belle when she found Red standing at the end of Rumplestiltskin's drive, waving them down. As soon as Rumplestiltskin brought the van to a stop, she leapt out and bounded over to the enthusiastic waitress.

"Red, not that it isn't nice to see you, but what are you doing here?" she asked as Rumplestiltskin stood patiently at the back of the van, waiting for the girls to finish chatting so he could start helping Belle move in. Although it was far more likely he wouldn't help at all and would instead spend the entire time she was trying to move in doing a bang-up job of distracting her.

"I heard the news from Ella!" Red exclaimed. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I haven't seen you since it happened; how could I have told you?" Belle pointed out.

"Um, how about using that brand-spankin'-new iPhone 5 I know for a fact your wealthy lover bought you for Christmas?" Red reminded her. "And as your best friend, I am entitled to hear the details of every major milestone of your love life as soon as it happens!"

"It's not—" Belle began, but Red wouldn't let her finish.

"It _is_ a big deal!" she practically shrieked. "He asked you to move in with him! And everyone knows what the next step is after that," Red hinted meaningfully. Belle gave her a blank look, and Red heaved an exasperated sigh. She lowered her voice so Rumplestiltskin couldn't hear.

"It's only a matter of time before he _proposes_!"

Belle gaped. "What?" she asked, baffled by Red's conclusion. "That's not… He's not… I mean, _eventually_, but we're not…" She shook her head. "No."

Red shrugged. "Whatever you say." She raised her voice back up to a normal speaking level (or rather, _her_ normal speaking level, which was noticeably louder than what most everyone else considered a normal speaking level) and gestured to the van. "Need any help with your things?" she asked.

"That would be fantastic," Belle said gratefully. Red effortlessly heaved a box into her arms and climbed the steps to Rumplestiltskin's front door.

"Hey Rumps, mind unlocking the door?" Red said to Rumplestiltskin, who was still observing their exchange with a trace of amusement. He was, predictably, less than pleased with Red's choice of nickname for him.

"Or you could just huff and puff and blow the door down," he said with a straight face. Red narrowed her eyes.

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you not to insult the people who handle your food?" she said pointedly. "Or people who periodically grow fur and fangs and go on rampages through town?"

"How about the people your grandmother owes money to?" Rumplestiltskin offered as he unlocked the door. Red pursed her lips.

"Touché."

XXX

After moving her books into Rumplestiltskin's study, Belle set about moving her clothes from the guest room to Rumplestiltskin's bedroom. Red had gone back to the diner; she'd only been able to get away from work for a brief span of time.

"Where should I put all these?" she asked when Rumplestiltskin limped up the stairs with a bag of pretzels, as per Belle's earlier request ("Is there anything I can get you? Snacks, water?" "Sure, bring me something salty."). She had all her clothing laid out on his bed, not sure where she should stow it all. There was a closet on either side of the room, but Belle had found them both full, one with Rumplestiltskin's clothes and one with spare towels and blankets and pillowcases. Rumplestiltskin gestured to the latter.

"We can move all that rubbish into the hall closet," he said, "And use the set of drawers from the guest room for you to organize your things in."

Belle nodded, opening the bag of pretzels and munching on a few of them. "Will you get started on moving 'all that rubbish,'" she imitated his accent quite well, actually, "While I lug that set of drawers in here?"

"Yes, milady," he said dutifully. Belle pranced into the guest room and sized up the small but heavy set of drawers. She didn't want to scratch the wooden floor, but she also wasn't certain she could lift it and didn't want to strain herself.

Eventually, Belle decided to give it a try. She lifted the set of drawers an inch off the ground and lugged it out the door, pausing briefly in the hallway to rest. She didn't think she could carry the chest of drawers all the way into the bedroom. Hands on her knees, she called over to Rumplestiltskin, who was piling a stack of linens into the hall closet.

"Rumplestiltskin," she said, "I hate to ask; you know how I feel about magic, but…" He looked over, observing her plight.

"You want some help with that?" he asked. Belle took a deep breath.

"Yeah. Go ahead."

Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers, Belle winced, and the chest of drawers floated into the bedroom, landing on an empty patch of floor beside the window.

"Okay, that's—" Belle began as she reentered the bedroom, but cut off when she saw Rumplestiltskin had also magically sorted her clothes into the closet. She glared over at him; she'd only wanted help with the furniture. "I just wanted you to move the drawers!"

"Sorry, I just loathe cleaning," he said, though he didn't sound very apologetic.

"I could have done it myself," Belle protested. Still, a part of her was glad she didn't have to. Not that she would ever admit to it.

"And now you don't have to," Rumplestiltskin pointed out. He smirked as he brushed past her. "You're welcome."

Belle pursed her lips and decided to change the subject; no use dwelling on something they would never truly agree on. She turned to the bedroom's two windows.

"I think we need new curtains," she decided. "And the walls in the hallway need to be repainted." She paused. "A lot of things need to be repainted. I know you don't much care about interior decorating, but the upstairs is just so… boring."

Rumplestiltskin laughed. "You can change whatever you want to, dearie," he said, "On one condition. Actually," he amended, "Two conditions." Belle crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"And those would be?" she prompted.

"First," Rumplestiltskin began, "The spare bedroom down the hall stays as it is."

Belle crinkled her nose in confusion. "You keep that door locked; I've never been in," she observed. She didn't even know what Rumplestiltskin kept in the spare bedroom; whenever she asked, he managed to skillfully change the subject. "How would I change it?"

"I'm just taking precautions," Rumplestiltskin said. "And second, try not to go overboard. The budget isn't unlimited, and I'd hate to have to cancel my plans for later this month."

"Plans?" Belle asked, intrigued. Rumplestiltskin hadn't mentioned any plans, let alone expensive ones.

"You'll see," he said cryptically. Belle was frustrated by his secrecy, but she certainly knew Rumplestiltskin well enough to know that there was nothing she could do to make him talk. She would just have to wait and find out.

XXX

**_3 August_**

XXX

On Friday, Belle had dragged Rumplestiltskin to the hardware store to get paint for the upstairs hall and bedrooms. The next day found them painting the hall; Belle had picked a dark blue for the walls and she was intent to begin immediately.

At the moment, Belle was balanced precariously on a stepping stool, reaching with her paint roller to cover every square inch of wall. Rumplestiltskin had offered to hire a professional to do the painting for them, but Belle insisted that "doing it yourself is half the fun."

"If you fall, I'm going to catch you and hurt myself," Rumplestiltskin warned. "So don't fall." Belle shot him a "_Well, duh_" look. He shrugged and took a paintbrush to get the edges of the wall by the doorframe to their bedroom. Belle stepped back to survey their work thus far.

"I like this color," Belle remarked. "It definitely works. We should do the bedroom this color too."

Not caring either way, Rumplestiltskin agreed. "Whatever you'd like, dearie."

Hours later, they'd finished painting the hall, removed the painter's tape along the edges, and collapsed on the floor. Belle had streaks of blue all down her bare arms. She dabbed her fingers into a spot that was still wet and dragged the paint down the side of Rumplestiltskin's face. "There, now we match." He rolled his eyes.

"And you say I'm the ridiculous one." But he kissed her anyways.


	19. Plans

**This Year**

_A/N: Rumplestiltskin's been acting strange lately. Belle's curiosity gets the better of her. But how does Emma get caught in the mix? And a little sadness in the form of an answering machine. My editor hasn't looked at this yet, so any mistakes are on me. As for future chapters, seasons are changing, but have no fear; I've plenty of plans for autumn already spinning around in my head. And speaking of plans…_

XXX

**Summer**

**19: Plans**

XXX

_**27 August**_

XXX

In one of the final weeks of August, Belle began to notice that Rumplestiltskin was acting very odd, in a way that he hadn't for a very long time. He would disappear without warning, and reappear without giving any excuse as to where he had been and what he had been doing. He was hardly ever home.

A year ago, this sort of behavior wouldn't have seemed all that strange or out of place to Belle. In fact, she would have expected Rumplestiltskin to act this way. But lately she'd thought their relationship had improved, that they didn't need to keep secrets from each other anymore. And she didn't like to jump to the conclusion that Rumplestiltskin was keeping something from her because he didn't trust her – he could have any number of motives that didn't have anything to do with her trustworthiness or the strength of their relationship – but as time wore on, she was beginning to feel rejected.

Every night Belle made dinner, and every night she left it in the fridge for him to heat up when he finally walked in the door long after she'd gone asleep. They didn't meet for lunch, and he only visited her at the library once, and it was just for a few minutes, on his way to somewhere else (where, he wouldn't say).

In fact, all Belle saw Rumplestiltskin was in the mornings. She woke him up, got ready, woke him up again when he inevitably fell back asleep, and went downstairs to make breakfast. Rumplestiltskin would come downstairs just in time to scarf down some food she'd left waiting for him, and then he would drive Belle to work. They didn't talk much in the car; he was too preoccupied with keeping himself awake at the wheel. He'd been awfully tired lately, from staying out so late every night.

Belle wanted to trust Rumplestiltskin not to be meddling in things that ought not to be bothered, but after a week of his peculiar behavior she couldn't help the sneaking suspicion that he might be up to something unsavory again. And she was worried about him. He wasn't getting enough sleep, hardly ate anything, and was constantly distracted. Even when they kissed – moments that became increasingly few and far between as the week progressed – she never seemed to have his full attention. She knew she shouldn't take it personally, but the irrational, heart-driven part of her couldn't help but wonder if maybe she'd done something wrong to lose Rumplestiltskin's attentions as of late.

She also knew there was nothing she could do to persuade Rumplestiltskin to tell her what it was that kept him so mysteriously busy lately; she knew how to recognize a secret he wouldn't reveal. But she still had to give him the chance to come out with the truth, because strong relationships were built on trust and she was determined not to give up on him so easily.

And if he wouldn't tell her, well, she'd just go behind his back and find out the hard way.

And so she did just that one day at breakfast. Rumplestiltskin was half asleep and their conversation up till then had mostly consisted of Belle cheerily chattering about this and that while Rumplestiltskin gave somewhat-lucid grunts in response and nodded at the proper intervals. She was partway through relating the cutest thing Alexandra had done the day before when she turned to him and noticed how he was slumped forward in his chair, stirring his soggy cereal around with a spoon and not even pretending to listen to or even care about what Belle was saying.

For some reason, that was what did it for Belle. A whole week of eating every lunch and dinner alone, falling asleep with nothing but emptiness on his side of the bed, not even enjoying their infrequent kisses, hardly hearing a word out of him for days on end, and now he wouldn't so much as make an effort to _look_ like he cared what she was telling him, and it was just the last straw.

Belle snapped.

She grabbed Rumplestiltskin's bowl of cereal straight out of his hand – he wasn't eating from it anyway – and wrenched the spoon from his grip. Milk sloshed onto her shoes, but she didn't care, though she was certain she'd regret it later when her brand-new flats squelched everywhere she walked.

"What is wrong with you lately?" Belle demanded, slamming the bowl and spoon into the sink and turning the cold water on full blast. She rinsed the dishes, shut off the water, and dried her hands, all in abrupt, angry motions. Rumplestiltskin was certainly awake now; he looked up at her with wide eyes and a slightly stunned expression. She could practically hear him mentally calculating what it was he'd done wrong this time to trigger Belle's outburst. Belle continued to glare.

"You're always out and I never get to see you!" she complained, grabbing her keys and purse and dragging Rumplestiltskin to the front door. If they didn't leave right away, Belle was going to be late to open the library. It was really the only problem of living with Rumplestiltskin, not being able to afford running late in the mornings.

Rumplestiltskin silently got in the driver's seat of the car and shifted into drive while Belle continued to vent her frustration, complete with exaggerated hand gestures. "Where is it you go every day?" she wondered aloud. Rumplestiltskin spared her a sidelong glance before returning his eyes to the road. Still he didn't say a word. "What keeps you away so long that you're barely getting any sleep? You're never around and the last time we kissed, and I mean _really_ kissed, was more than a week ago! We haven't gone out together in ages; I miss you!" Her anger verged on desperation as she asked: "What could possibly be more important than us?"

In a screech of rubber-on-asphalt, Rumplestiltskin slammed on the brakes. He pulled the car over to the curb and put it in park, turning to Belle with a fierce look in his eyes that she hadn't seen since she couldn't remember when. It reminded her of the dangerous, short-tempered monster Rumplestiltskin used to be, the side of him that he could unleash at a moment's notice. But he wasn't angry; Belle knew the difference. Instead, he was insistent.

"Nothing," he told her firmly, in answer to her previous query. "_Nothing_ is more important than us. Than you."

This was reassuring, but Belle still didn't have her answer. "Then why won't you be with me?" She was disgusted by the pitiful quality her voice took on, but this had been a hard week and perhaps she deserved to break down a little.

"I want to, Belle, I do," Rumplestiltskin told her. "I've just… had my hands full with something. A… project." The word alone was enough to flip a switch inside of Belle that transformed her sincerity into suspicion. Rumplestiltskin was definitely keeping things from her, that much was now made clear. Belle hated it when he kept secrets, and he did so often that it almost made her feel like he didn't trust her. She wished he was more open, but it wasn't in his nature.

He wouldn't tell her what it was he'd been working on. But perhaps he would give her a clue.

"What sort of project?" Belle pressed, her voice lowered a few notches and her eyes squinting to discern his true motives. Having dealt with Rumplestiltskin so long, Belle's interrogation tactics were practically CIA-worthy. Rumplestiltskin shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable withholding this from Belle when it obviously meant so much to her.

"I can't tell you," he finally said. Belle was crestfallen, and not afraid to let it show. She huffed out a sigh of disappointment, and the puff of air from her lungs sent one of her curls bobbing. Seeing Belle upset like this, Rumplestiltskin panicked. He took her hand in his and squeezed.

"It's nothing illegal," he promised, as she always made him do, "And nothing involving magic."

This offered Belle some small amount of comfort, but yet her curiosity refused to subside. "Will I at least find out soon?" she inquired. Rumplestiltskin gave her a smile.

"We'll see."

Belle sighed. She hated when Rumplestiltskin gave her vague, ambiguous answers like that. It grated at her nerves. But it was the best she was going to get.

"Okay," she reluctantly concluded. "I suppose I can live with it as long as you promise to be home at a more reasonable hour.

Rumplestiltskin kissed her briefly. "For you, love," he said lowly, "Anything." He kissed her again, and this time it was a real, chest-fluttering, spine-tingling, head-buzzing kiss. His hands were at her waist and behind her head. She leaned forward as he coaxed her mouth open. The kiss ended far too soon for either of them, but Belle had work and Rumplestiltskin had his so-called "project" and neither of them had any time for snogging.

That night, as promised, Rumplestiltskin was home at a more reasonable hour. He crawled into bed just in time for Belle to curl up in his arms and drift off to sleep, and she counted it as a private success.

It was almost enough to make her feel bad about what she'd done earlier that evening.

XXX

_**Earlier that evening…**_

XXX

Belle checked her watch. Nine o'clock sharp and Rumplestiltskin still wasn't home. She shook her head and crossed the kitchen to the home phone, her slippered feet padding across the floor. She picked up the cordless phone and dialed one of the emergency numbers on the gold post-it note stuck to the tabletop.

The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. For a moment Belle thought she might have the wrong number; the voice recording was not a voice she recognized.

"_You've reached the Sheriff's office_," it nonetheless said. Belle's preoccupied mind absently wondered why it wasn't Emma's voice telling her this, who this unfamiliar male voice belonged to. It wasn't David, nor anyone Belle had met before, that much was certain. "_No one's in right now, but leave a message and contact either my or my deputy's cell phones in the event of an emergency._"

Pushing aside thoughts of the male voice and deciding that no, it wasn't an emergency, Belle left her message.

XXX

_**28 August**_

XXX

Every weekday morning, Emma woke up, ate a simple, easy to make breakfast – on that particular day it was a bagel with cream cheese – and made coffee for herself, Snow, and David. She woke Henry at seven o'clock and returned five minutes later to speed him up when he inevitably lagged a little in his morning routine of getting up, getting dressed, brushing his hair, brushing his teeth, and eating breakfast.

Henry asked for French toast that day. Snow, who woke shortly after Emma, took care of his request while Emma used her mobile phone to check the answering machine of the Sheriff station. Sometimes there was a message or two, usually nothing major, but mostly Storybrooke was a relatively well-kept town with a comparatively low crime rate, especially now that things had settled into a comfortable post-curse lull.

Today the automated answering machine voice announced "_One new message_." Emma's face settled into a tried and true poker face as she listened for news of a crime or disturbance, ready to spring into action at the drop of a hat.

"_Hi, Emma, it's Belle_." That Belle had called the Sheriff station instead of Emma's mobile was the first indicator that something was wrong. The second indicator was, of course, the simple fact that Belle was the closest person in Storybrooke to Mr. Gold, and Mr. Gold was the most likely person in Storybrooke to have dealings outside the law. Emma crossed around the kitchen counter, pressing her phone to her ear and shushing Henry when he ventured to ask who was on the line.

Belle's voice continued, in a sort of calmness that put Emma's nerves at ease. Belle certainly didn't sound frantic, and the message had been left the night before, some time in late evening. If it had been urgent, Belle would have found Emma or David at the apartment, or called their cell phones at least.

On the other hand, spending so much of her time with Mr. Gold might very well have desensitized Belle to some degree. Emma always had to be on guard when it came to Mr. Gold, even with Belle to keep him in line, and even if it meant Emma's vigilance bordered on paranoia.

"_I know it's late_," Belle was saying on the answering machine, "_But I figured I'd call so I don't forget to in the morning. I've been kind of scatterbrained lately._"

No, Belle definitely wasn't calling about an emergency. All the same, Emma checked that she had her things – jacket, gun, badge, handcuffs, wallet, keys – and stood at the front door.

By this point, Snow, Henry, and the newly awakened David were all standing in the kitchen watching Emma with evident concern. Emma tried her best to look like nothing was out of the ordinary (and she still didn't yet know if anything _was_ out of the ordinary, so really there was no need to worry them).

"I have to go," Emma mouthed to them, her hand on the doorknob. Snow nodded her understanding.

"I'll take Henry to school," she stage-whispered across the room, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "If you're still busy in the afternoon, I'm sure Regina wouldn't mind taking him for the day."

Emma nodded her agreement and left the apartment. As she walked down to her car, the message continued.

"_I don't mean to alarm you_," Belle's voice said, "_But Rumplestiltskin has been acting odd lately. It's only been obvious this past week, but now that I think about it, it may have been going on longer than that. This week was just the worst of it. Anyways, he's been disappearing off to work on some 'project,' he says, and he won't tell me what it is._"

There were so many trigger words in that introduction alone. Emma's mind raced over them: "_don't mean to alarm_," "_Rumplestiltskin_," "_acting odd_," "_disappearing_," "_work on some project_," "_won't tell what it is_." She jammed her key into the ignition and set off for the station to start what was looking to be a complicated investigation.

"_I don't know where he's been going or what he's been up to_," Belle continued. "_He's been coming home late and hardly getting any sleep. When he is around, he acts distracted, like his mind is somewhere else. I'm worried. He promised he wasn't up to anything illegal, and that whatever he's doing doesn't involve magic, but I figure it'd be best to alert you and have you check to make sure. Just…_" There was a brief pause during which Emma found herself holding her breath. "_Just… if it's something really bad, I don't want to know. Actually, maybe I do. No, no, I don't_." Belle fumbled indecisively over her words before giving a feeble attempt at a laugh that only served to make her sound more insecure.

"_Anyways, do let me know whether or not you find anything questionable_," Belle said. "_Thank you so much._"

The message ended. Emma pursed her lips and tapped out several text messages.

To Belle: "_Got your message. Will check things out and get back to you._"

To Henry: "_Regina will take you home after school today. I have an investigation. No you can't help. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning._"

And last, to Regina: "_Can you take Henry after school today? Duty calls._"

Regina's reply was almost instantaneous: "_Yes_." Just one word. Emma rolled her eyes. The woman's texts were always short, grammatically correct, and to the point.

Glad that at least Henry was taken care of, Emma pondered her next move.

Granny's was as good a place to start as any; all the town gossip circulated through there sooner or later. Red was one of Emma's most valuable informants. And if anyone knew anything about what Mr. Gold was up to, Emma would find them there.

So that's how she ended up sitting at the counter at Granny's making smalltalk with Red an hour later, watching and listening to the people going in and out for breakfast or coffee. It was at the tail end of the breakfast crowd, since by then most everyone was at either work or school. Emma had just about given up on getting any leads when the very last breakfast straggler wandered into the diner.

At precisely the moment Emma was about to get up and leave, the diner door swung open and who should walk in but Jefferson. Emma buried her face in her hands; ever since she'd forgiven him for using magic on her without permission, he'd assumed it meant they were now friends. Which they weren't.

Because that would be weird.

"Hiding from someone?" His voice was right next to her ear when he spoke; Emma jumped, letting out an exclamation as her hands smacked against the counter. Red, on the other side of the diner, let out a laugh. Emma glared over her shoulder at her.

Of course, it had been foolish of Emma to think that Jefferson would have noticed her discomfort and spared her his presence this once. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd noticed her discomfort and it had only given him all the more reason to torture her, which had seemingly become his favorite pastime.

Emma cursed the day her life had become such a mess. "What do you want?" she groaned, not even attempting to mask her displeasure. She was so not in the mood for this today. Jefferson, however, was undeterred. Persistent bastard.

"I was just checking that we were still on for dinner on Saturday," he said casually, taking a seat on the stool beside her and smiling expectantly at her. As if this were the sort of thing he asked her every week.

It wasn't, though. Their weekly dinners had been going on so long that they'd become a sort of unspoken arrangement. Every Saturday at six, Emma and Henry showed up at Jefferson's door. Sometimes they ordered in, mostly they ate out; it was all the same to Emma. Jefferson trusted her to show up at the proper time each week, Emma trusted him to have dinner plans and accommodations made, and if she wasn't going to show up – when Jefferson had done something that led Emma to decide she wasn't speaking to him, for instance – somehow he just… knew.

He never had to ask. She'd never quite realized it, not consciously, at least, but it was nonetheless true. Emma filed this information away for later reference, because at the moment she couldn't decide whether it weirded her out or not.

"Um, yeah." She looked at Jefferson like he was crazy, which, well, she supposed he was. "Is there any reason why I wouldn't?"

Jefferson chuckled – a little uneasily, perhaps? – and leaned forward with his forearms on the counter. "No, I suppose not," he said. He looked over to see Emma anxiously tapping her fingers against her empty coffee mug. "Is something the matter?" he asked. Emma nodded gravely.

"Actually, yes," she admitted. "It's Mr. Gold."

"Ah," Jefferson said, understanding. "Causing trouble again? And just when we thought Belle was finally keeping him in line." Emma shook her head.

"She was actually the one who gave me the heads-up," she said. "Apparently he's been disappearing somewhere for hours at a time, not coming home until late and not going to work at all." She shrugged. "But I don't know where to begin. It's not like I can just bring him in for interrogation; he's a freaking lawyer. If I made a single error, he'd have grounds to sue me, and he would. Not to mention he's got dirt on everyone in town. If I just knew _where_ he was going off to, I'd have somewhere to begin."

Jefferson averted his eyes and his hands cradled his coffee mug. Emma's suspicions heightened; she leaned forward and squinted at him.

"Jefferson," she said in a low voice, "Do you know something about all this?"

He stared at his hands. "I may," he said slowly, still not meeting her eyes. "In fact, I think I do."

Emma finally got him to look up at her. "Tell me what you know," she ordered. Jefferson sighed and leaned back a little.

"You know I work from home," he began in a tangent that seemed entirely unrelated to the matter at hand.

"Yeah, as a freelance writer, you told me," Emma said, trying to discern what possible connection there could be.

"Well, what you don't know is I also have an eye for interior design," he said, a little proudly. Emma rolled her eyes but didn't say anything; she needed Jefferson to get to the point and didn't want to interrupt before he got there. "So Gold called me in for help with this 'project' of his. It's entirely legal, I assure you, but I can take you to where it is so you can see for yourself."

Emma nodded. "Get in my car," she said. "I'll drive."

XXX

Emma pressed her face to the window of the cottage, peering inside. She'd been out here only a few times before, although those were memories she'd frankly rather forget. But there certainly wasn't anything sinister about what was happening there on that particular day.

"That is gorgeous," she said in a hushed voice to Jefferson, who stood over her shoulder. She looked back at him. "You designed this?"

"I helped," he said with a modest shrug. Emma continued to gape.

"Well I think it's safe to say there's nothing to see here," she said with a bit of humor in her voice, stepping away from the window and walking quietly back over to her car, which they'd left running for convenience, in case they had to make a quick getaway.

Their escape was thwarted, however, just as Emma was fastening her seatbelt. Jefferson spoke up, eyes fixed on a point behind Emma's head. "Emma, be—"

A thump outside Emma's car door interrupted Jefferson's warning. Emma spun around and looked out the window to see Mr. Gold standing next to her car, leaning on his cane and looking at her with one eyebrow raised. Something about his posture told Emma that if she made one wrong move, it might very possibly be the last move she ever made.

She offered a guilty smile that came out as more of a grimace and rolled down her window. "Hey, Mr. Gold," she said in a strained voice. He didn't move, didn't blink, and his expression didn't change. Usually Emma wasn't so affected by the man, but this time she knew she was trespassing and Mr. Gold had every right to be angry with her.

"What brings you here, Miss Swan?" he asked, voice deadpan and cold as steel. Emma put on her Sheriff face and refused to be intimidated.

"Your behavior lately has been suspicious, and I decided to check it out," she said. "Jefferson here assured me that nothing illegal was happening down here, but I had to see for myself. I had probable cause, and if you'll notice, I didn't enter the premises, and everything I saw was in plain sight, so I didn't need a warrant—"

"I'm aware of the technicalities, Miss Swan," Mr. Gold interrupted. "What I want to know is if anyone else is aware of what's here."

Emma shook her head. "I haven't told anyone," she promised.

"Not Belle?" Mr. Gold checked. Emma met his piercing gaze with her own and answered honestly.

"Not Belle."

"Good." He stepped back from Emma's car. "Go. And next time you're trying to sneak around somewhere, I'd advise you to drive a quieter car."

Relieved that her encounter with Mr. Gold was over, Emma stepped on the gas and drove away.


	20. Into the Woods

**This Year**

_A/N: Into the woods, into the woods, into the woods then out of the woods and home before dark! Last chapter of summer and officially halfway through. Having some difficulty finding time to update, but I'll try my best._

XXX

**Summer**

**20: Into the Woods**

XXX

_**28 August**_

XXX

_Message Received 7:21 A.M._

_From: Emma Swan_

"_Got your message. Will check things out and get back to you."_

_Message Sent 7:39 A.M._

_To: Emma Swan_

"_Thank you. Hopefully it's nothing, but it can't hurt to be sure, especially where Rum is involved."_

_Message Received 7:45 A.M._

_From: Emma Swan_

"_Better safe than sorry."_

_Message Sent 7:50 A.M._

_To: Emma Swan_

"_I meant to ask, when I called the station, the recording wasn't your voice. I didn't recognize who it was. Is it someone I'd know?"_

_Message Received 8:24 A.M._

_From: Emma Swan_

"_No one important."_

_Message Sent 8:33 A.M._

_To: Emma Swan_

"_Then why haven't you changed the recording?"_

_Message Received 11:01 A.M._

_From: Emma Swan_

"_Found out what Gold is up to. Looks like he told you the truth. Everything's in order."_

_Message Sent 11:10 A.M._

_To: Emma Swan_

"_That's a relief. What was he up to?"_

_Message Received 11:17 A.M._

_From: Emma Swan_

"_Something tells me you'll find out soon."_

XXX

_**30 August**_

XXX

All this suspicion and mystery over the past couple of days was beyond maddening. Belle was nowhere closer to discovering Rumplestiltskin's secret than she'd been a week ago. She had only the knowledge that Rumplestiltskin's plans did not involve anything illegal or magical, and Emma's promise that Belle would "find out soon." Some help she had been.

But so it was on one Saturday at the tail end of August that Belle had just about given up on discovering Rumplestiltskin's secret, and it was then that a promising change of pace occurred that had Belle hoping.

Being that it was a weekend, Belle's morning schedule was slightly changed from the norm. She woke only a half-hour or so after she normally would have – something in her body chemistry simply refused to let her sleep in past eight, even on the laziest of days – yawned, stretched, and slid out of the slippery sheets. Instead of waking Rumplestiltskin, Belle left him sprawled across two-thirds of the bed. He took up space in his sleep, that was for sure, and more often than not Belle woke up with one or more of his limbs casually slung across her as if she wasn't even there.

After a quick, refreshing shower, Belle got dressed in a simple blouse and shorts, fetched the book she was currently reading – _All the King's Men_ – from the nightstand, pocketed her phone, and padded barefoot down the stairs. The morning chill hung in the air, despite the season.

Belle hadn't bothered with hair or makeup, and figured she would worry about appearances later should she decide to go anywhere or leave the house at all. Just then, she was contented to look like a slob.

Downstairs, Belle found herself in Rumplestiltskin's study, situated herself in her favorite chair, and flicked on a nearby reading lamp, eating cereal straight out of the box. She sat sideways on the leather chair, with her back resting on one armrest and her legs dangling over the other. It was a nasty habit of Belle's to sit with the most terrible posture while reading; she just liked to be comfortable.

A full hour passed this way, the only sound being the gentle whir of the overhead fan keeping up with the late summer heat. There were no windows in the study, isolating Belle from any outdoor noise completely.

Around nine o'clock, the sound of movement overhead – uneven footsteps, the thud of something falling, and some time later the thump of Rumplestiltskin's cane against the hardwood floor – alerted Belle to the fact that her lover had finally gotten his lazy self out of bed to join her. She hoped he brought a book or something to work on; she didn't feel like being disturbed.

But of course, she belatedly realized, Rumplestiltskin wouldn't be joining her in the study, not today. He still had his blasted "project" to work on, some mystery location to sneak off to all day.

Resigning herself to another day of loneliness, Belle settled herself deeper in the curve of the armchair and flipped a page of her book with perhaps more force than was necessary, resulting in the subsequent ripping of said page. Funny that she should wish to be left alone one moment, and after discovering she _would_ be alone, immediately change her mind and desire company.

Wasn't that always how it went, though? Belle shook her head, dismissing the question before she could get into it. She was hardly in any mood for that wishy-washy philosophical "the grass is always greener" nonsense, thank you very much.

Since any plans Belle might have had for the day hinged on Rumplestiltskin sticking around at the house, it became necessary for Belle to reevaluate her options. Her previous fallback of staying at home all day long had been thwarted when she remembered Rumplestiltskin's imminent absence. Belle's desire for human companionship ultimately trumped the desire to stay cooped up inside and shun productivity.

Perhaps she would pay a visit to Ella and Alexandra; she rarely ever saw them outside of the library. She could have lunch with Red and maybe offer to take Henry and Grace to a movie to give their respective parents a well-deserved day off and herself a chance to finally go to the local cinema. She'd never actually been; Rumplestiltskin preferred to watch movies at home (to be fair, he owned quite a collection) and Belle had never argued.

So wrapped up was Belle in her personal scheduling that she did not hear the upstairs shower go on, the water rush through the old pipes, and a few minutes later shut back off. Neither did she notice when the sound of Rumplestiltskin's distinct walk descended the stairs or even when it approached the study and the door was nudged open. She only became aware of Rumplestiltskin's presence when, standing directly behind her, he leaned down to bestow an upside-down kiss on her forehead.

Belle tilted her head back to look up at Rumplestiltskin with a lovestruck gleam in her sea-blue eyes. "Morning, sweetheart," she said in a lilting, happy morning voice. Rumplestiltskin gave a lopsided smile; Belle knew he loved the way she was in the mornings, bouncy and happy and sunny and bright, even though at times, when he was especially tired, it grated a little on his nerves.

"Good morning, dearie," he said, the scratchiness of sleep still evident in the sound of his voice. He offered Belle a hand to hoist her up; she spun around in her seat and gratefully accepted the gesture, allowing Rumplestiltskin to help her pull herself to her feet. She stumbled slightly and steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder.

Even before Belle could get her balance, Rumplestiltskin took hold of her waist, dragged her near, and kissed her. Belle was taken aback at the sudden and unexpected display of affection, but after a moment responded in kind by deepening the kiss and smiling against Rumplestiltskin's mouth.

After a few moments, Belle broke away, kissing him once more, briefly, for good measure. "My, you're in a good mood," she observed. Her arms were wrapped around Rumplestiltskin's neck; she released him and slid her hands from his shoulders down his arms to clasp his hands in hers.

"I suppose I am," Rumplestiltskin agreed. Belle wondered what could be causing this rare mood; she tried to remember if Rumplestiltskin had been like this the night before, but he'd gotten home so late that Belle was practically asleep by the time he joined her in bed.

So she asked, "Any particular reason for it?" He shrugged and answered with frustrating ambiguity.

"There might be."

Belle pursed her lips and released his hands with a huff of annoyance. She walked around Rumplestiltskin, through the door, and into the kitchen, leaving her book on the desk in the study. "You are infuriating," she told him, tossing the words over her shoulder. Rumplestiltskin gave an unrepentant smirk, following Belle to the refrigerator. She paused a moment to decide between orange juice and milk, settled on orange juice, poured and downed a glass, all in the space of a few minutes. While she was replacing the orange juice carton in the fridge, Rumplestiltskin stood close behind her with his arms around her waist and his face against her neck, trailing kisses down her spine. Belle shivered, both because of the cold air of the open refrigerator and the pleasant buzzing of her nerves in reaction to Rumplestiltskin's closeness.

"Positively… infuriating," she found herself muttering helplessly, involuntarily leaning into Rumplestiltskin's embrace. She drew a shaky breath that did nothing to clear her head; she was too overcome. "What has gotten into you?" she managed. Maybe he was distracted enough to reveal what this whole "project" thing was about. She was certainly distracted enough to reveal anything he asked of her.

"I love you," was all he said, his mouth moving against her shoulder. A strangled noise escaped Belle's throat and her eyes fluttered shut; she hadn't realized just how much she'd missed Rumplestiltskin's affection until now.

"I love you too, you ridiculous man," Belle said, smiling. Realizing they were wasting energy keeping the refrigerator open like this, she collected herself and shut it. She spun around, hoping to head either for the bedroom or the study, she hadn't decided which, when Rumplestiltskin took the opportunity to shove her against the now-closed fridge and kiss her roughly.

Caught by surprise, Belle melted and went weak at the knees, clutching Rumplestiltskin for support. "Rum," she gasped, breaking away only to have him start kissing her jawline and neck. But she was confused, and the little voice in the back of her head that always seemed to ruin moments like this was persistently making itself heard. "Don't… you have someplace… to be?" But why would she be asking that? She was having trouble remembering where exactly Rumplestiltskin would be going, other than the nearest horizontal surface. Needless to say, Rumplestiltskin's kisses were a severe impediment to Belle's brain function.

"No," Rumplestiltskin replied, still maddeningly coherent. How was it he could keep a cool head in these situations while Belle was having trouble remembering her own name? "Why do you ask?" He angled his head and kissed her on the mouth, their bodies fused together up against the cold metal surface of the refrigerator. Belle gave a reluctant groan and broke away just long enough to speak.

What was she going to say? She'd already forgotten… She scrunched up her nose and concentrated just enough to grasp at the threads of the point she'd been trying to make. "Your project," she said breathlessly, remembering why it was she'd been so confused that he hadn't left the house already. "Don't you have to mysteriously disappear for the entire day again?"

Rumplestiltskin smiled and shook his head. "Not today," he said, with just a hint of mischief that excited Belle in an entirely familiar way. "Today we're _both_ mysteriously disappearing," he corrected her, "For the entire _weekend_. And that's three days, mind, seeing as we've got Labor Day." Belle raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A long weekend spent at some isolated location? That was certainly promising. Not to mention the glint in Rumplestiltskin's eyes that promised certain wonderful things that Belle was eager to experience.

"Where are we going?" she asked with a sigh in her voice, foot popping in the air behind her as Rumplestiltskin stepped away from the refrigerator and reached blindly behind him for his car keys.

"You'll find out when we get there," he said. A part of Belle was annoyed at the continuing secrecy, but mostly she was caught up in the idea of some extravagant romantic gesture in store.

Belle couldn't imagine, though, what Rumplestiltskin's surprise could possibly be. What romantic gesture, however extravagant, took an entire week's worth of preparation, especially within the confines of a tiny town like Storybrooke?

What indeed. As soon as they got in the car to set off for wherever they were going, Rumplestiltskin withdrew from his pocket a large white handkerchief and motioned for Belle to face away from him. Belle raised an eyebrow.

"You're blindfolding me?" she asked with a hint of surprise, nevertheless doing as Rumplestiltskin prompted and turning away. The things Red would say if she ever heard about this…

"Seeing as it's a surprise," Rumplestiltskin said. Belle shook her head but allowed him to tie the handkerchief around her eyes. "Can you see?" he asked. Belle turned in his general direction, only able to make out vague lightness and shadows, but no definite shapes.

"Not a thing," she said, reaching blindly in front of her for effect. Rumplestiltskin gave one of his rare, genuine laughs and started the car. It was disorienting for Belle, knowing Rumplestiltskin could see her while she could see nothing. She felt a little ridiculous.

The drive was equally frustrating, as it consisted largely of twists and turns and uncertainty. Belle spent the majority of the time trying to trick Rumplestiltskin into telling where they were headed.

"So where did you say we were going?" she tried. Rumplestiltskin chuckled.

"I didn't," he reminded her. Belle frowned. So much for getting him to tell her straight out.

"Is it somewhere I've been before?"

"Not telling." Belle scowled.

"Is it in town, or in the woods?" she asked.

"Not telling, he said again. Belle sighed.

"You know, guessing games are only fun if you answer the questions," she told him, crossing her arms and pouting. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"It's not a game, dearie," he said.

"Will anyone else be there?" Belle didn't expect an answer, other than "Not telling," but lo and behold, this time she got one.

"Just you and me," Rumplestiltskin said. Belle liked that idea. Her frown dissolved into a contented smile and she was for the most part silent for the remainder of the trip.

A thought occurred to Belle about halfway through the journey; what if Rumplestiltskin was going to propose? She felt a chill run down her spine. She didn't know how likely that was, but if it did happen, she didn't know what she would do. It certainly wasn't something she'd given much thought to lately, even though Red had developed a habit of constantly asking Belle when she thought Rumplestiltskin was going to pop the question. It was getting annoying.

Nevertheless, Belle knew she was certainly _not _ready to be _married_. No matter how she loved Rumplestiltskin, that wasn't the issue. She just wasn't ready to take that step.

Belle could feel it when the car came to a stop. The road beneath them was gravelly; this, along with the tranquil orchestra of rustling leaves, chirping birds, and scurrying critters, indicated that they were somewhere in the forested areas of Storybrooke, which ruled out most of the places Belle and Rumplestiltskin frequented.

Turning off the engine, Rumplestiltskin exited the car. She heard him cross in front of the vehicle over to her door, which he opened to let her out. Belle fumbled for her seatbelt buckle and reached out to take Rumplestiltskin's arm. He gently led her away from the car. Beneath her feet, Belle sensed she was walking along a path or a driveway, probably towards a house or building. Her curiosity was piqued; she hadn't a clue as to where they were.

"Where have you taken me?" she asked, bewildered.

"You'll see," Rumplestiltskin promised, and Belle detected anticipation in his voice. "Nearly there." Belle was led carefully up a step, and heard the sound of a key turning in a lock and a door being opened. She was ushered inside, where even behind her blindfold she could tell it was dark, an unlit house shaded from the sun by the forest canopy. The door was shut behind her. Rumplestiltskin's hand left her arm, and suddenly Belle had lost her only anchor to the visible world.

"Alright, try and guess where you are," Rumplestiltskin said, sounding as though he was quite enjoying himself. Belle focused each of her four remaining senses in turn, wishing not for the first time that she had the deductive reasoning of Sherlock Holmes.

"I know we're in the forest," she said. "And we're in a house. I think it's kind of small. I feel closed-in, but not in a bad way. It's… cozy. The lights are off, and I smell…" She sniffed the air. "Flowers?" Confused, Belle shook her head. "I don't know. I have no idea where we are."

She could hear the smile in Rumplestiltskin's voice. "Take off the blindfold, then," he prompted softly, from a bit farther away than before, "And open your eyes."

After a minute of struggling with the knot securing the blindfold at the back of Belle's head, she cast aside the offending handkerchief and opened her eyes.

The sight took her breath away.

"Rumplestiltskin…" she whispered, honestly astonished. "This is… wonderful."

"I'm glad," he said with an air of self-satisfaction mingled with relief. He stood politely behind Belle as she stepped forward into the room.

"What is this place?" she asked, voice still hushed almost reverently.

"One of several cottages out here in the woods," Rumplestiltskin replied. "I own them and no one lives in them or makes use of them, so mostly I don't bother with their upkeep. But I had this, the largest of them, fixed up and furnished for us, whenever we want to use it."

Belle spun around, taking in the whole room. "And you had Jefferson help with the design?" she assumed, knowing of Jefferson's eye for interior design and recognizing the Hatter's distinct style in the wallpaper and furnishings, all of which were dark, muted tones, not dull nor depressing, but somehow distinguished. In contrast, much of the wooden furniture – a table and chairs in a small kitchen area and a coffee table, armchair, and sofa in the adjoining living room – was painted stark white. Even in the dim lighting filtering through the windows – Rumplestiltskin still had not turned on the lights – it was beautiful.

"What's the occasion?" she inquired, spinning back around to face Rumplestiltskin, who still stood stoically near the door.

"No occasion," he said with a shrug. Belle hated to admit it, but knowing that Rumplestiltskin hadn't had any particular reason in mind when he'd planned all this was somehow reassuring. She was able to cross the possibility of a proposal off her list of things to worry about. "I felt like taking on a project, is all."

Belle laughed from the absurdity of it all, giving Rumplestiltskin a kiss on the cheek. "Careful," she teased, "Or you'll never manage to outdo yourself when we actually do have an occasion to celebrate." She gave him another kiss, this one on the lips. The newness, the novelty, the _strangeness_ of it all was intoxicating. Belle couldn't seem to stop grinning. "So, you've got me alone in your romantic cottage in the woods," she said, taking Rumplestiltskin's hands in hers. "What do you plan to do with me?"

"There's plenty to do, I'll promise you that, but first I thought we might check out the bedroom," Rumplestiltskin suggested. Belle's grin widened and she leaned into him eagerly.

"Yes, let's," she said. Rumplestiltskin led her into another room, this one spacious and entirely different from the main area. A large, king-sized bed with cream-colored sheets sat in the center of the room, with a nightstand on either side, a dresser, and a small bathroom off to the side, already stocked with the necessities.

What caught Belle's attention most of all was the romantic atmosphere: candles on the dresser, half a dozen red roses in a vase on the nightstand by Belle's side of the bed. She was about to express how perfect this whole house was when she heard Rumplestiltskin set aside his cane behind her. Her skin prickled with anticipation; Rumplestiltskin came up behind her, slid one hand under her shirt on her stomach, and moved her hair to the side with the other so he could kiss her neck and shoulders. Belle shuddered, her eyelids fluttered shut. With two hands Rumplestiltskin deftly undid the buttons of Belle's loose blouse and slid the sheer fabric off her arms, leaving Belle shivering with her arms and stomach bare.

For several minutes Rumplestiltskin's mouth covered every inch of skin it could reach: her neck and shoulders and back, down to her shoulderblades. When he made a move to continue undressing her, Belle spun around, looped her arms languidly around his neck, and kissed him, slowly, passionately, with no reason to rush. Rumplestiltskin pulled her body flush against his, his mouth moving fluidly with hers, their tongues entwining and their legs becoming tangled in the soft golden glow of the candlelight.

Gradually from there things escalated, starting out calm and sweet and not at all rushed to hot and rough and anxious. At some point Belle lost the rest of her clothes, and shortly thereafter ended up lying back on the angelically soft mattress. While he had Belle distracted, holding her arms above her head with one hand as she arched her back into him, Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers and magically snuffed out the candles.

Belle disapproved of magic, certainly, but Rumplestiltskin felt that in this circumstance, exceptions could be made.

XXX

"You always do this," Rumplestiltskin observed, his lips moving against the back of Belle's neck when he spoke. It was late. After their initial debauchery, Belle had proclaimed herself starving and went to fix them a meal dressed in nothing but her bra and underwear. Rumplestiltskin sat at the kitchen table just to watch her and take in the view.

And here the both of them were, hours later, and Rumplestiltskin was lying on his side curled up around Belle, his arm slung over her stomach. She had a book out and was reading by the desk light on her nightstand.

"I always do what?" she asked distractedly, flipping a page. Rumplestiltskin nestled nearer to her; it was a good thing Belle didn't care much about personal space, since Rumplestiltskin had no intention of respecting hers.

"Read," he said. "In bed. Before we go to sleep."

"Is something wrong with that?" Belle asked. Rumplestiltskin shook his head.

"Oh, no, not at all," he said sincerely. "I was just making an observation." He paused. Belle turned another page. "What are you reading?" he asked.

"_50 Shades of Grey_," Belle answered, not missing a beat. Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows shot up. "Kidding," Belle said, glancing at him over her shoulder. "It's _Pride & Prejudice_."

"Seems you're always reading that," Rumplestiltskin observed. Belle shrugged as best she could in her current position.

"I like to read Jane Austen before I fall asleep," she said. "It gives me good dreams."

"Dreaming of Mr. Darcy?" Rumplestiltskin teased. Belle set her book down, flicked off the light, and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Rumplestiltskin's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness before he saw the sleepy smile she was giving him. She kissed him on the lips.

"Dreaming of Mr. Gold," she corrected. He grinned.

"Well, then, by all means," he kissed her in return, "Carry on."

XXX

_**End of Summer.**_


	21. Isolating the Variable

**This Year**

_A/N: Belle and Emma bond over an unexpected similarity… all because of Henry's math homework? Stranger things have happened._

_Disclaimer: Just a reminder that this story takes place in an AU that ignores most of Season 2._

XXX

**Autumn**

**21: Isolating the Variable**

XXX

**_9 September_**

XXX

Just as summer had ushered in the first major steps in Belle and Rumplestiltskin's relationship, so did autumn bring with it a whole host of complications. Both of them knew they were on the brink of yet another rough patch; the chemistry between them had been knocked off-kilter and there was an unspoken, unacknowledged tension hanging in the air as they went about their separate daily routines.

As a result, Rumplestiltskin was taking care to avoid any behavior that might tread on Belle's mood. Ever since Belle had come back into his life, Rumplestiltskin had come to the realization that true love was a delicate balance, and lately he felt as though he was walking a tightrope. An apt metaphor, too; he was about as graceful emotionally as he was on his feet, which was to say, not at all. In all likelihood Belle could be absolutely miserable and he mightn't even notice.

But as it happened, Rumplestiltskin was actually underestimating how attuned he was, by now, to Belle's idiosyncrasies. They'd been living together just over a month and he'd grown accustomed to her presence, learned how to tell her moods. And so he knew right away when something was up, and something was definitely up.

It began hardly more than a week into September. Rumplestiltskin arrived at the library that evening to pick Belle up and bring her home. He'd been working in the garden that afternoon – had taken time off from the shop, since hardly anyone came by anyway – and was in a better mood than usual.

"Make yourself comfortable," Belle told him as she bustled about, shelving and organizing books in a hurry. "I've just got a few things to wrap up and then we can go."

Rumplestiltskin sat at a table without complaint, waiting patiently for Belle's work to be done. He was in no rush, and the way Belle had been lately, constantly stressing over some imagined or exaggerated travesty, the last thing Rumplestiltskin wanted was to incur her wrath. He felt as though he was already treading on thin ice as it was. When and if Belle finally snapped, he didn't want to be the one to cause it. He knew all too well what it was to be on the receiving end of one of Belle's moods. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

Looking around the dimly lit library – Belle had turned off all the lights save for her desk lamp – Rumplestiltskin noticed Henry sitting at the table adjacent to him, hunched over a lined-paper spiral notebook and a thick textbook open to a page of math problems. His face was scrunched up in concentration and confusion; his hand holding his yellow number two pencil hovered above the paper as he worked out the numbers in his head.

Having evidently hit a roadblock in what Rumplestiltskin could only assume was his homework, Henry looked up and scanned the room for Belle. When she emerged from behind the shelf of encyclopedias in the back, Henry flagged her down.

"Belle!" he said. Belle stopped, arms full of books, and made a detour to Henry's table. She deposited the books in a pile on the desk and let out a breath.

"What's up?" she asked. "Has your mom really not been by to pick you up? Does she know you're here?"

Rumplestiltskin wondered which of Henry's mothers they were waiting for: Emma or Regina. They'd worked out their shared custody of the boy without much fuss – well, at least no one had been killed, which was about as good as it got when Regina was directly involved – and now he spent plenty of time with each of them. Of course both women had complaints – their arrangement was an inconvenience and a hassle at the best of times, a source of conflict at the worst – but they were each satisfied by the fact that at least neither of them had it much better than the other.

"She texted me that the town council meeting is taking longer than she thought, so Emma's on her way to pick me up and take me to the mansion," Henry said with an apologetic smile. Town council meeting, Rumplestiltskin observed, meant Henry was waiting for Regina. Unless of course the mayor had finally agreed to have Emma attend the monthly meetings, which, despite the fact that the sheriff was technically supposed to be on the council (after all, Graham had been), was unlikely.

"Well Rum and I are in no rush so we'll stay here until she arrives," Belle said kindly, taking a seat next to Henry. "Now what can I do for you?"

Henry spread out his math textbook in front of Belle, pointing to the problem in question. "I can't figure this one out. Can you help?"

Watching from the next table over, Rumplestiltskin wondered what sort of math Henry was doing. He had to be in only sixth or seventh grade. Basic algebra, probably. Nothing too difficult. Rumplestiltskin reached over to the nearest bookshelf and selected a book at random, hoping to entertain himself. It turned out to be something on domestic horticulture; he absently flipped through the pages with no particular aim in mind. The exchange between Henry and Belle vaguely registered in some distracted part of his brain.

"What are you trying to do?" Belle asked, leaning over the math book to squint at the letters and numbers.

"I'm supposed to solve for x," Henry said. So it _was_ algebra. Rumplestiltskin gave a small smirk of triumph and flipped a page. When he glanced up, he saw Belle's mouth was ajar, staring dumbfoundedly at the math text.

"Since when does math have letters?" Belle asked, standing and shaking her head. Of course, Belle wouldn't have learned algebra in the old world. "Sorry Henry, you'll have to ask Regina for help with all this. I don't know the first thing about… whatever this is." She gestured all-encompassingly to Henry's math homework and retrieved her pile of books to be put away, resuming her work.

After a moment, Rumplestiltskin returned the domestic horticulture book back on the shelf, rose with a sigh, and limped over to where Henry sat, still tapping his pencil uselessly and grasping at metaphorical straws.

"Need help?" Rumplestiltskin asked, repositioning the book to get a better look at it without even waiting for Henry's answer. Henry nodded.

"Yeah, I need help with that one," he said, pointing to the problem numbered twenty-one. "I can't remember what to do for it."

Rumplestiltskin read the problem:  
2x / 3 = 6

"Alright," Rumplestiltskin said, looking at where Henry had copied the problem down in his notebook. "What do you think you have to do?"

Henry screwed up his face in thought. "I have to get the x by itself," he said after a moment. Rumplestiltskin nodded.

"Right, isolate the variable." He gave an encouraging smile; he'd always liked Henry, and he was no stranger to numbers himself, so it was really no problem helping out. "Any ideas on how to do that?"

"Um," Henry shook his head. "No. That's where I'm stuck."

So Rumplestiltskin walked Henry through the problem, and once he was confident the boy understood, he pointed out a similar problem. "Try that one, then."

By the fourth problem, Henry was getting it all on his own on the first try. "See? Nothing much to it," Rumplestiltskin said, standing as he saw Belle had finished cleaning up. Right on time, Emma was knocking on the door, waving at Henry through the window with an enthusiastic smile. "There's your mother, then, run along."

"Hold on, I have to put my stuff away," Henry said, hurriedly gathering his things into his backpack. He waved Emma in and the Sheriff stepped inside. She saw Rumplestiltskin sitting next to her son and eyed the man suspiciously.

"What was Mr. Gold talking to you about?" Emma asked, directing her question to Henry even though Rumplestiltskin was right there. Emma was less wary of Rumplestiltskin with Belle around, but that didn't mean she trusted him.

"He was helping me with my homework," Henry assured her placatingly. "I finally get how to do equations now!"

Emma then gave Rumplestiltskin a strange look, some mixture of gratitude and resentment. Nothing he hadn't seen from her before.

Before either party could say anything, Belle came up next to Rumplestiltskin and placed a hand on her arm. "You go start the car, I'll be right out," she said to him. "I just need to talk to Emma about something."

Curious, but not suspicious, exactly – he trusted Belle – Rumplestiltskin went outside, just out front to where he'd parked, to get the car started and wait for Belle to join him. He saw her talking to Emma through the window, but couldn't hear their words or read their lips.

Inside, Emma was helping Henry put away his things. Looking to speak to Emma alone, Belle diverted Henry's attention with the only surefire distraction she knew of.

"Henry, take a look in the back, a box of new orders just got in and I think I may have that new Rick Riordan one you've been waiting for," Belle said. Excited, Henry sprinted into the back room, leaving just Belle and Emma in the main part of the library.

The dynamics between the librarian and the Sheriff were awkward, but not overly so. Both had for the most part accepted the fact that they would probably never understand each other and become acquainted by virtue of their shared friends. Neither had any real desire to further their relationship, and neither knew that the conversation they were about to have would do just that.

"Hey, tell Gold thanks for helping Henry, okay?" Emma said quietly, leaning in closer to Belle so as not to be overheard. "But don't tell him I told you to, alright?" She offered a brief smile, which Belle returned.

"No problem," she said.

"I've been trying to help Henry with school," Emma said. "It's only been a week since school started, though, and I already had to arrange for Regina to have him on weekdays and me on weekends. She's just better at all that stuff, helping with homework and getting him to and from school." Emma ran a hand through her hair. "I never thought I'd say it, but she's not such a bad mom, once you get past the whole 'Evil Queen' thing."

Belle gave a sympathetic grimace. "If it makes you feel better, I was absolutely useless when Henry came to me for help," she admitted. "That's why Rumplestiltskin stepped in. I'd never seen math with letters in it. Then Rum called it 'basic algebra' and… I don't know." She shrugged. "If it's so basic, does that make me stupid for not knowing it?"

"Hey, that's what I'm asking myself," Emma commiserated. "At least you read. I get bored twenty pages into any book I pick up. Without the curse, sometimes it feels like Henry and I don't have anything to talk about."

"But you grew up in this world," Belle said. "You went to school here. I don't even have memories of this world. Everyone else got fake lives from the curse, but Regina didn't give me anything. Why bother giving memories to the crazy amnesiac in the secret psych ward, right? It made sense; it gave her an excuse to have had me locked up, in case anyone ever questioned it. But you know things. You grew up here."

"I dropped out of high school when I was fifteen," Emma said. "I don't even remember if I took algebra, and if I did I probably failed it." She paused, realization dawning in her eyes. "I guess… that puts me and you in the same boat."

"I just wish there was a way to make up for it," Belle said. "All the things I don't know and never got a chance to learn." Emma shrugged.

"I've thought about taking online courses from time to time," Emma said. "Maybe you could start there. I know you have to take the GED test in person if you want the official certificate and I doubt there are any testing centers in Storybrooke, but hey, no one cares if you have a diploma or whatever. You could just take the classes to learn if that's what you want."

Belle cocked her head to one side, mulling over this new information. "I just might do that," she said. "Thank you Emma."

Henry was emerging from the back room, brand-new book triumphantly in hand. "Guys, I found it!" he announced. "Belle, is it okay if I borrow this? I'll bring it back as soon as I finish!"

"So I should expect it back tomorrow then?" Belle joked. "Yes, Henry, of course you can take it. You have a wonderful evening."

"Thanks, Belle!" Henry grinned. "And tell Mr. Gold I said thanks for helping with my math. I didn't know he was so good at it."

"He's gotta use a lot of math keeping track of all the money everyone owes him," Emma said. Belle gave her a look. "What?" Emma said defensively. "He owns everything!"

"I'm told it's all part of a deal he made with Regina in the old world," Belle explained offhandedly. "Speaking of Regina, won't she be waiting for you?"

Emma's eyes widened and she pulled out her phone to check the time. "Sh—" Seeing Henry, she quickly censored herself. "Crap. You're right. Henry, we gotta get going. You head outside, I'll be right there." She turned around to give Belle an awkward half-nod. "Good luck, then, if you end up taking those classes," she said. "Who knows, maybe you'll inspire me." She grinned. "But probably not. Have a good evening."

Once Emma and Henry left, Belle locked up and joined Rumplestiltskin in the car, where he'd been waiting for what must've been at least five minutes.

"What was all that about?" he asked, speeding off almost as soon as Belle's seatbelt was fastened.

"Nothing," Belle fibbed. "Girl stuff." Rumplestiltskin gave her a sidelong glance. She really was terrible at lying to him.

"Isn't that the sort of thing you usually go to Miss Lucas about?" he asked.

"Well maybe I needed to talk to Emma this time," Belle persisted unconvincingly.

"Right," Rumplestiltskin said sarcastically, "Because of all her successful past relationships, she must know a lot about your so-called 'girl stuff.'"

"Don't be so judgmental," Belle warned. "You might end up regretting it."

"I've been made to understand," Rumplestiltskin said, "That Emma's only serious past relationship was with a criminal who ended up getting her pregnant and landing her in jail. Seems like a well-rounded individual."

"It's not like the man I ended up with has a squeaky clean criminal record either," Belle countered, "In either world I've known him." She nudged Rumplestiltskin playfully, and he smiled down at her, glad that the tension she'd been feeling the past week seemed to have gone as inexplicably as it came.

"Is that what we did?" he asked, suddenly serious. "We 'ended up' together?"

"What's wrong with that?" Belle asked. To her it sounded like a very good thing. A "happily ever after" sort of thing.

"Nothing, I just wasn't aware we'd reached the end," Rumplestiltskin said. Belle raised her eyebrows.

"Do you plan on ever being with anyone else?" She knew his answer already. They pulled into the driveway and he let her out of the car and kissed her deeply on the doorstep.

"Not ever," he promised. "No one else but you." He slung an arm around her shoulders as he unlocked the door and they entered the house. "Although there's no telling if you'll finally come to your senses and realize you could have a much better man than me."

Belle pretended to contemplate this. "Mm, it is a mystery why it was you who turned out to be the only man I ever took an interest in," she teased.

"Perhaps you were secretly attracted to the power, hm, dearie?" he said cheekily, making a point of raising his voice up to the octaves of his Dark One self. Belle bit back a grin.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I suspect it was the leather pants." Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes.

"I certainly hope that wasn't the reason." He took off his jacket and hung it in the coat closet by the door. Belle followed suit. "Because I never plan on wearing those again."

"Not even if I put on my old gold dress?" Belle asked, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Rumplestiltskin pursed his lips.

"I suppose then I'd think about it." Belle laughed.

"Do you mind making dinner tonight?" she asked, a little off topic. "I have some things I need to do on the computer, and goodness knows how long that'll take me to figure out." Belle didn't think she would ever be very good with computers. It was another drawback of not having the fake memories of this world.

"Not a problem," Rumplestiltskin said, kissing her on the cheek. "If you need any help, just let me know."

"I think I'd better figure it out myself," Belle said, "But thank you."

In Rumplestiltskin's study, Belle booted up the computer, logged in, and opened the Internet.

"Let's see what I can find out about these online courses Emma was talking about…"


	22. Headaches and Washtubs

**This Year**

_A/N: Inspired by something that happened to me this week. Started out average, then turned fluffy, and eventually morphed into… headaches and washtubs? Nothing out of the ordinary for these two. Beware, this is an incredibly long chapter._

XXX

**Autumn**

**22: Headaches and Washtubs**

XXX

_**12 September**_

XXX

When Belle told him of her plans to take classes online, Rumplestiltskin was, naturally, fully supportive of the notion.

"I think it's a great idea," he said in the car on their way home that Friday, when she first shared the news.

"Really?" Belle said. Rumplestiltskin turned to her briefly with an encouraging smile.

"You sound surprised," he observed. "Didn't you think I'd approve?"

"Well I…" Belle paused, considering this. "I don't know what I thought," she admitted. "I didn't expect you to agree straightaway with no questions. I thought you might at least ask why I suddenly decided this is something I want to do."

"Would you prefer it if I did?" Rumplestiltskin asked. He was willing to go along with whatever Belle wanted; finally learning the cause of her odd behavior as of late had put him in a good mood, and he liked the idea of Belle catching up on what she missed in twenty-eight years of being locked up with no memories.

"You just sound so casual about it," Belle said. Rumplestiltskin laughed.

"Belle, darling, you're free to make your own choices," he said. "You know that."

"Well, yes," she conceded. "But I—"

"And as your…" Rumplestiltskin searched for the right word. There wasn't really a term to describe their relationship. "As someone who cares about you, it's my job to support you in whatever you choose to do with your life. And if you want to learn new things, well, I think that's a great idea. Good for you."

Belle cocked her head to the side. "I guess I didn't think of it that way." She shrugged. "Well, thank you, anyway."

"Have you started yet?" Rumplestiltskin asked, pulling into the driveway. "I could help you figure out which classes to take, if you'd like."

"That would be great," Belle said. "I'd love some help. I don't really know what I'm doing."

XXX

_**15 September**_

XXX

Little did Rumplestiltskin know how thoroughly Belle would throw herself into her coursework. Over the weekend she spent nearly all her time working after Rumplestiltskin had ordered her some textbooks and signed her up for a few basic classes in math, science, and history. "Since you hardly need lessons in English," he'd said.

He was extremely accommodating, stopping by to ask if she needed anything every half hour or so. Eventually Belle took him up on his offer for tea. He didn't bother to ask milk or sugar; he knew she took her tea with ridiculous amounts of honey.

Belle worked all day. At night when they were in bed together, she had a World History textbook in her lap as Rumplestiltskin settled in comfortably next to her and drifted off to sleep.

XXX

_**16 September**_

XXX

Rumplestiltskin woke the next morning and the first thing he saw was Belle standing at the foot of the bed, brushing her teeth with the World History book open in front of her.

She was already halfway through.

"Learn a lot last night?" he asked, yawning and stretching. Belle ducked into the bathroom to spit into the sink.

"I barely slept," she said. Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows.

"You'll be exhausted, dearie," he said, his voice laced with concern. He knew how Belle needed her sleep, especially when she had to work in the library. Without enough rest, she crashed halfway through the day.

"I'll be fine," she said dismissively, still reading even as she got herself dressed. "I just couldn't put it down," she explained. She looked up at Rumplestiltskin as he stood and made his way to the bathroom to get himself ready. "There's so much of it."

"It's all very interesting, but do try to get some sleep tonight," Rumplestiltskin advised, struggling to squeeze the last bit of toothpaste from the nearly empty tube. "The last thing you need is to pass out in the library during work. I hope Ella is coming to help out today?"

Belle nodded. "Alexandra has been sick, but she's better now, so yes, Ella will be there." She slipped a boldly colored, flowery blouse over her head and tied her hair back with a length of red ribbon. "Come downstairs soon," she said, and went to prepare breakfast.

At lunch, Belle ate with Red at the diner. She was nose-deep in algebra, which was swiftly proving to be her least favorite subject.

"Really, Belle, I don't see why you're doing this to yourself," Red told her. "In my fake memories as Ruby, I passed high school algebra with a C-minus and I turned out fine. I don't feel the need to go back and learn it all for real. Everyone hates math. It's boring."

Belle furiously erased a wrong answer to start over again. "I just don't want to be behind everyone else, she said, not even sparing Red a glance as she copied an equation from the textbook into her brand-new spiral notebook. "I want to learn."

"I guess it's your choice," Red said with a shrug. Convincing Belle of anything when she had set her mind to do something else was impossible. There was simply no convincing her. "But I still think you're crazy."

XXX

_**22 September**_

XXX

Monday morning, almost a week later, Rumplestiltskin woke earlier than he ever did of his own volition. When he looked back on that morning later, he wouldn't be able to remember exactly what it was that woke him. It was still dark outside; a glance at the digital clock on the nightstand told him it wasn't yet six. He groaned and rolled over to go back to sleep, shutting his eyes and reaching out to nestle up against…

He frowned and opened his eyes. Where there should have been a lovely woman sleeping soundly beside him, there wasn't so much as an imprint in the sheets, which were cold and empty and showed no signs that Belle had come to bed that night at all. Rumplestiltskin thought groggily back to that evening, trying to remember if she had.

No, she'd been at the computer doing her coursework at some ungodly hour when he'd finally gone down to check on her. She was "just finishing up," she'd told him. "Five more minutes," she'd said, "Don't wait up."

Well, he hadn't, and now look what had happened: Belle had gone an entire night without sleep.

Muttering to himself about how this never would've been a problem in the old world, Rumplestiltskin got out of bed, made a halfhearted attempt to smooth down his hair, which stuck up at all kinds of angles whenever he woke, and ventured downstairs in search of Belle. Sure enough, there she was, exactly as he'd left her, sitting in his desk chair hunched over in front of the computer screen, the only sounds her steady breathing and the occasional click of the mouse.

"Belle," he said wearily to get her attention. Belle jumped at the noise; she'd been too absorbed in her work to notice Rumplestiltskin's presence. She looked up at him with wide owl eyes. Rumplestiltskin shook his head; she looked a mess, with her hair in knots and dark circles under her eyes. She'd been like this all weekend. It was as if she was determined to learn every scrap of information there was to know in the shortest possible time span. Certainly Rumplestiltskin supported her desire to gain more knowledge in this unfamiliar world, but there came a point when he had to draw the line. And there in his darkened study, at five fifty-two in the morning, lit only by the harsh glow of the computer screen, was where he drew that line.

"Oh, Rum, I didn't hear you come in," Belle said breezily, trying to come across as casual even though both of them knew what Rumplestiltskin was going to say next.

"Dearie, have you been down here all night?" he intoned with a hint of exasperation, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't deal with this nonsense before sunup; it just wasn't natural.

"Is it morning?" Belle asked, wincing when she glanced at the time display on the computer as she realized that, in fact, it was.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin growled. Belle returned her attention to her studies.

"Then I've been down here all night." Rumplestiltskin sighed.

"Come upstairs," he pleaded. Belle opened her mouth to protest, but Rumplestiltskin cut her off, changing instantly from begging to demanding. "No," he said, his tone unyielding. "Come upstairs. It's not a request. Upstairs. Now. You need sleep."

"But I—" Belle began. Once again, Rumplestiltskin wouldn't let her finish.

"I'm calling Ella and leaving a message to tell her you won't be in today," he said, taking his phone from his pocket. "She's taken plenty of time off lately; I'm sure she won't mind covering for you." He found Ella's number, dialed it, and it went straight to voicemail.

"This is Mr. Gold," he said, leaving a message. "Belle won't be in today. She's sick. I'm sure she'd very much appreciate if you filled in for her today at the library. Thank you." He hung up abruptly and crossed around the desk to offer Belle a hand up, abruptly transitioning back to ordering her around.

"Come on," he said impatiently.

"Just a minute," Belle requested, holding up a finger. Rumplestiltskin let out a breath, reached forward, and unplugged the computer monitor. The screen went black, throwing them both into darkness. Belle let out an exclamation of protest and clicked furiously with the mouse but there was nothing she could do. Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers and the light flicked on.

"Couldn't you have waited while I—" Belle stopped suddenly when the light came on, squeezing her eyes shut. So much light was painful after hours of darkness. Rumplestiltskin shook his head.

"You have been down here _all night_," he said slowly, stretching his last thread of patience as far as it would go. He extended a hand to Belle. "You've barely been getting enough sleep as it is. You're not going to work today and you're not allowed near your coursework. I'm taking you upstairs and you're going to bed and we'll both sleep late today and that is final."

Belle glared, her face scrunched up painfully. Without the computer monitor keeping her awake with its intense brightness, all those hours of sleep she'd missed out on were finally starting to catch up to her and she realized Rumplestiltskin was right. It was unhealthy to run on so little sleep, and even more so to spend hours in front of a screen, never seeing the light of day. Still, on principle, she protested. "I can make my own decisions." Belatedly she realized how childish she sounded.

"Clearly you can't," Rumplestiltskin snapped. "You're lucky I don't lock you up in a tower and leave you there to keep you out of trouble. I've seen it done before." The smirk he gave betrayed the fact that he was only joking. Still, Belle wondered if he really had known someone who'd been in that situation.

Out of arguments and exhausted of energy, Belle yawned and took the hand Rumplestiltskin still held out to her. When she stood, she felt a wave of pain rush through her head. Her hand immediately shot to her forehead. It had been dully aching from the moment Rumplestiltskin unplugged the computer and turned on the lights, but now it throbbed, pounding in time with her heartbeat. Rumplestiltskin responded immediately, helping her to cross to the other side of the desk and placing a hand on the small of her back to steady her.

"Ow ow ow ow ow," Belle groaned, pressing the heel of her hand to her head and squeezing her eyes shut. Rumplestiltskin tried not to come across as patronizing when he spoke. He'd told her to go to bed that night; if only she had listened, her head might not be hurting.

"Headache?" he assumed. Belle nodded. It was a struggle, but Rumplestiltskin managed to support her on their way out the door, turning off the study lights behind them.

"Yes," Belle said. Rumplestiltskin shook his head.

"That's what happens when you stare at a screen for hours on end," he said. Forget not sounding patronizing; it was early and he was tired and Belle was not doing anything to help the situation. Still, something about Belle being in pain kicked his protectiveness into gear and he pulled her in for a hug, holding her for quite a while as she buried her face in his shoulder. "Now let's get you upstairs and taken care of. Can you walk?"

"Yes, of course," Belle said, a little bitterly but without any real malice. She shrugged off Rumplestiltskin's arms. He didn't take it personally; everyone got cranky when their head felt like it was hosting the percussion section of a world-renowned orchestra.

"Go get in bed," he told Belle. "I'll be up in a moment with tea and painkillers. Would you like anything to eat?"

"Some of those chocolate chip cookies I made on Thursday would be nice," Belle requested. Rumplestiltskin nodded and they parted ways. He went to the kitchen to get everything together, the tea and the cookies and the Advil. His movements were sluggish and he spent a majority of the time he was downstairs trying not to yawn.

Belle was curled up in a ball under the covers in her bedroom when Rumplestiltskin walked in, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut that hot tears were forced out of the corners and ran down her cheeks. The lights were off, the curtains closed; even the digital clock had been unplugged. Rumplestiltskin set the tea and cookies on the nightstand and uncapped the bottle of Advil. Belle reached out her hand, burying her face in a pillow, and Rumplestiltskin doled out two of the little orange pills, reconsidered, and added a third for good measure. This seemed like a three-Advil emergency. Belle swallowed the pills without water. A year ago she couldn't swallow pills at all.

"I can practically hear the smugness radiating off you," Belle grumbled, reaching blindly for a cookie. Rumplestiltskin took care to slide the tea out of her reach so she wouldn't knock it over in her fumbling. She secured a cookie and devoured it. "It occurs to me that I haven't eaten anything all night," she added a minute later, wiping crumbs from her mouth. Still Rumplestiltskin said nothing. If he did speak, he couldn't trust himself not to blurt out something stupid, like "I told you so," which of course would only ruin his prospects of getting laid all week, perhaps longer if the headaches persisted. If he got anything out of Belle's infirmity, it would be boyfriend points for being such a good caretaker, not demands that he sleep on the couch.

Speaking of sleeping on the couch… "Do you want me to leave?" he asked. Belle looked him over, apparently debating whether or not she could handle another person in her current state, and shook her head.

"No," she said. "Stay. I'll go crazy with boredom without someone to talk to."

Rumplestiltskin smiled, privately glad that he could stay, and settled in beside Belle. He took her into his arms, where she curled up against his chest and buried her nose in his sleep shirt, slowing down her breathing. One of her hands curled around the fabric of his shirt and the other burrowed in his sleep-tousled hair.

"How long does Advil take to kick in?" she muttered, her lips moving against him. Rumplestiltskin enveloped her in his arms and stroked her hair.

"Fifteen minutes or so," he answered, "But I'll be asleep by then."

XXX

He was. And in the morning, Belle woke him gently – "How is it you can go a whole night with no sleep and still wake up earlier than me?" – and Rumplestiltskin was more than pleased with what he woke to.

Belle was still curled up facing him, her arms around his shoulders and his around her waist, and his figure was curved around hers. She nuzzled his neck and hummed pleasantly. Evidently the headache was gone.

"You called me in sick, yeah?" she said sleepily. Rumplestiltskin brushed his cheek against hers and his lips brushed her cheekbone. He felt her shiver and tightened his hold on her, once again closing his eyes.

"I did," he said, his voice thick with sleep. He felt Belle smile against his skin.

"Let's spend all day in bed," Belle proposed. "Let's not get up once." Rumplestiltskin appreciated that idea.

"That, my love, sounds absolutely perfect."

Of course, their plans were foiled when they both realized how hungry they both were.

"Go downstairs and make breakfast, will you?" Belle requested, even though it was well past lunchtime. Rumplestiltskin kissed her forehead and ran his hands slowly up and down her arms, feeling especially affectionate. He was like this when they slept in, which was why Belle made an effort to stay in bed as long as possible when she didn't have to work. The cuddling was worth it.

"Why should I be the one to do it? I'm the cripple in this relationship," he teased, his voice low. That was another thing: when he first woke up, Rumplestiltskin's voice was low and thick and heavily accented. It made Belle want to either snog him senseless or force him to read aloud to her from something Scottish. _Macbeth_, maybe.

Keeping herself together, Belle responded with sarcasm. "Yes," she said drily, "As you never fail to remind me. But, if you'll recall, I was the one with a headache this morning."

"You can't use ex post facto illnesses as a valid excuse," Rumplestiltskin said. Belle pulled away, briefly discomforted by the loss of warmth, and glared up at him.

"You know I don't speak lawyer," she said. Rumplestiltskin looked incredibly smug, and stubbornly persisted in his refusal to get up.

"It's Latin," he informed her. "Although now that I've told you that, you'll probably want to learn that subject too."

"I have no interest in studying a dead language," she said. Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows at her. "Yes, I learned something from my history textbook," she said smartly. "Now go make breakfast."

"What would I be getting out of this?" Rumplestiltskin asked. Belle pursed her lips, thinking, then, with a mischievous expression, casually slung one of her legs across him, nuzzling her head against his neck in a far less innocent way than before. Her teeth scraped against his skin and he shuddered. When she rested her chin on his shoulder, she murmured something in his ear that made Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows shoot up. He leapt out of bed in an instant.

"This will be the best breakfast you've ever had," he promised as he started out the bedroom door. Now it was Belle's turn to be smug as she reclined in the center of the otherwise empty bed, stretching out in all the space.

She had to sit up when Rumplestiltskin returned, arms laden with a breakfast tray loaded with more than enough food for them both. Belle eyed the impressive feast: bananas, grapefruit halves dusted with sugar, French toast, and strips of bacon. The glorious smell hit Belle like a sledgehammer, and suddenly she was _starving_. She took up a fork and looked from one food to the next, unable to decide what she wanted first.

"I suggest we save some for later," Rumplestiltskin said, leaning forward and nipping Belle's earlobe. "I'm feeling particularly ravenous."

"Mm, I can only imagine why."

XXX

Several hours in bed together later, the topic of conversation had turned into something like their Truth or Drink came from months ago, but without alcohol and with far less apprehension about asking and answering questions of a very personal nature.

"Okay, the first time you saw me naked," Belle said eagerly, propping herself up on her elbow. Rumplestiltskin looked her up and down, taking in her state of dress – or rather, undress – and raised an eyebrow.

"Belle, you were there," he said unashamedly. "You remember. I didn't exactly keep my feelings or intentions to myself."

Belle shook her head. "I'm not talking about the first time we made love," she said. "I want to know about the _other_ first time." She bit her lip and quirked her eyebrows suggestively.

Rumplestiltskin's face closed off in that annoying way he had. Belle resented his poker face; it was flawless. She pursed her lips. "I don't know what you mean," Rumplestiltskin insisted, and even his voice betrayed nothing. Infuriating.

"Don't pretend," Belle said. "I saw you. Standing there gaping like a fish. I didn't say anything and pretended I didn't see because I still wasn't sure how far I could push you before you did something dangerous. I let you think you'd gotten off easy. But I saw. _You_, sir, were _looking_." She smirked smugly and leaned back slightly, waiting for Rumplestiltskin to spill.

"I—" Rumplestiltskin began, and Belle could tell he was about to deny it, so she quickly cut him off.

"I know it wasn't on purpose," she said, "And there's nothing to blame you for. But since then I've been dying to know what was going through your head." It was true. She'd wasted many a night in the Dark Castle wondering, asking herself what he'd been doing there in the first place, why he hadn't said or done anything, had just run away.

"Going through my…" Rumplestiltskin repeated incredulously, shaking her head. "Belle, I can assure you there was _nothing_ going through my head. It was completely blank. To be honest I was a bit preoccupied with preserving the memory of what I thought would be the most I ever saw of you, down to the very last detail."

"But you were standing there at least a minute!" Belle protested.

"It took that long to memorize you," Rumplestiltskin said with a shrug. Belle leveled him with a no-nonsense glare.

"Surely you must have thought _something_."

Rumplestiltskin sighed deeply, exaggerating his exasperation. Belle rolled her eyes.

"Well, alright," he relented. "I was walking down the corridor, thinking, 'Where is that girl? I'm starved. She can't have gone back to her room.'"

"But I had," Belle said, supplying her side of the story. "I went back to my room to wash up because I'd been in the West Wing and I'd gotten myself so coated in dust I couldn't take a step without sneezing. I wasn't going to cook your dinner that way, especially after the incident with the flour."

"And how was I to know that?" Rumplestiltskin asked. Belle rolled her eyes.

"I _told _you. 'I'll be in the West Wing all day. It's dusty as a tomb in there.'" She shook her head. "Do you ever listen?"

"Sometimes I just like to watch the way your mouth moves when you talk."

Belle ignored that last comment for the sake of moving the conversation forward. "So you were walking down the corridor," she prompted, looking at him pointedly.

"Ah yes," Rumplestiltskin said with a nod. "I saw your door was ajar—"

"I didn't think to close it," Belle said in her own defense. Conversations like these really brought out the lawyer in Mr. Gold, so Belle's instinct was to give excuses for everything, even though they both knew he could tear them apart at the seams if he wanted. "You were never in that part of the castle and I knew I wouldn't take long. I took my chances."

Rumplestiltskin ignored her – he didn't want to argue, at least not about that – and continued. "I pushed the door open, and what do I find but an eyeful of Belle, dressed in nothing but nothing, washing up in the middle of the room."

"It's not like I had a washroom," Belle pointed out. "My accommodations were hardly that of a five-star hotel." Rumplestiltskin decided against reminding her that hotels had not existed in the Enchanted Forest, nor had the five-star ranking system. But that was a technicality. Instead, he argued his point.

"You were a servant and I provided you with a servant's accommodations," he said fairly. "You're lucky I let you out of the dungeon. I didn't want anyone to accuse me of showing favoritism, you know."

Belle rolled her eyes again. In occurred to Rumplestiltskin that this staying-in-bed-all-day idea had resulted in some of the best banter he and Belle had ever shared. "Because heaven forbid all your other servants be jealous," Belle was remarking sarcastically. "Oh wait! I was the only one."

"If I gave you special treatment, people might have accused me of going soft. It would have ruined my reputation."

At this point, Belle too seemed to realize how ridiculous their verbal back-and-forth had gotten. She shook her head. "I can't believe we're arguing over this," she said. Rumplestiltskin grinned.

"I just like to see you riled up," he said cheekily. "It's an incredible turn-on."

Belle smacked his arm. "You're insufferable. Get back to the story."

"Where was I?" Rumplestiltskin asked.

"You opened the door and got an eyeful of naked me."

"Ah yes." Rumplestiltskin nodded, remembering. "As I said before, I wasn't thinking much. I was staring at the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. If anything, my thoughts were, 'Gods she looks delicious.' And a few less savory observations. That sort of thing."

"So what did you do?" Belle asked.

"The only thing I could do," Rumplestiltskin said seriously. "I stared at you as long as I thought I could get away with, then shut the door quietly and never returned to that part of the castle again."

Belle bit her lip. "And did you consider doing… anything else?" The implications behind her question were clear.

"Not even for a second," Rumplestiltskin replied without hesitation. Belle was admittedly a little disappointed. As always, Rumplestiltskin did not fail to notice this. "What?" he asked. "Were you expecting any different?"

Belle shrugged. "I suppose not," she confessed. "I might have been constantly living in fear that you'd lose your temper and strike me with a bolt of lightning, but I never for a second worried you might come after my virtue."

Rumplestiltskin's eyebrows lifted. "You place an undue amount of faith in me, dearie." Belle shook her head.

"I don't think so. I think you had your limits."

"Maybe when I met you," Rumplestiltskin said quietly, introspective, "But not always."

Belle wouldn't let this become somber and serious; she twined her arms around Rumplestiltskin's neck and curled her lips into a smile. "And not anymore," she added. Rumplestiltskin snapped out of his self-loathing, grinning and taking hold of Belle's hips. They kissed intensely for a long while before Belle broke away and continued her interrogation, much to Rumplestiltskin's chagrin.

"Did you want to do something?" she asked. "When you saw me that day?" Rumplestiltskin fixed her with a dark, desirous gaze.

"Belle, I wanted you more than I've ever wanted anything else," he said softly, as if sharing a secret. "But I never could have ruined you. I never would have even stopped to consider it."

Belle gave pause, her mouth slightly agape. "That's… surprisingly sweet," she admitted. Rumplestiltskin laughed.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew the sort of dreams I had for weeks after I saw you that day."

"Maybe I would," Belle said slyly. "Maybe my dreams were even worse." Rumplestiltskin raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I highly doubt that," he said. For the second time that day, Belle leaned toward him to whisper in his ear, this time something particularly delightful involving the library of the Dark Castle. Rumplestiltskin gaped.

"I stand corrected," he said with a hint of amusement. "Although a year ago I never would have believed my ears."

"A year ago you treated me like a nun."

"Not true," Rumplestiltskin argued. "I seem to remember there being a fair amount of kissing. Which was more than I would have done that day in the Dark Castle." Belle believed that. Rumplestiltskin had been so certain it was impossible for anyone to love him; he never would have considered pursuing any sort of relationship with Belle a possibility.

Which brought to mind another question. "You said you wouldn't 'ruin me,'" Belle quoted. "What changed? Clearly you have no problems now."

Rumplestiltskin grinned. "There comes a time when a man is past the point of no return." Belle leaned towards him and snaked her arms around his neck.

"No return," she repeated silkily. "I like that."


	23. And Home Before Dark

**This Year**

_A/N: Stereotypical artistic forest scene. There's one of these in every self-respecting fantasy movie. You'll see what I mean. The last part of the chapter may seem a little unrelated, but it will become important later._

XXX

**Autumn**

**23: And Home Before Dark**

XXX

_**28 September**_

XXX

"It's so nice outside," Belle remarked one lazy Sunday afternoon as she and Rumplestiltskin sat on a pair of armchairs by the front window, reading with the curtains thrown open to the sunlit room. She slipped an old receipt – currently functioning as a bookmark – between the soft, velvety pages of a weathered old copy of _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ from Rumplestiltskin's extensive personal collection of classics. Belle's hands rested one on top of the other on the book in her lap, and she turned her gaze to Rumplestiltskin. When he noticed Belle's attention on him, after a solid minute of her staring, Rumplestiltskin looked up and set aside his own reading material.

"What was that, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin asked. The both of them had a tendency to block out all other noises when they were focused on something, so they ended up frequently repeating themselves. Belle gestured out the window for Rumplestiltskin's benefit. Autumn was laying claim to the small New England town. The sky was a dull, overcast gray, offset beautifully by the brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange in the trees. A flock of geese flew by in a V, headed south from Canada for the winter, no doubt.

"I was only noticing how nice it is today," Belle reiterated. "We should do something. It would be a shame to waste the whole day indoors, especially since soon it'll be too cold to be anywhere else."

Rumplestitlskin had to agree with Belle on one account: it was beautiful outside. Autumn was his favorite time of year, especially in this part of the country. Not that he had ever lived anywhere else in America, but he knew enough to know that New England had some of the best seasons – especially autumns and winters – in the world.

"I suppose I could use some fresh air," he agreed, though anything out of doors would inevitably require walking, which was something he was not feeling particularly inclined to do that day. But a walk with Belle, well, that wasn't so bad. "There's a walking trail in the forest we can take. It's quiet, and the trees will look beautiful."

Belle thought this was a wonderful idea. The pair of them slipped into their coats and decided to drive to the start of the trail, seeing as Rumplestiltskin's leg was giving him trouble. It wasn't long before they pulled into a gravel parking lot surrounded by trees. A dirt trail led into the woods, marked by a wooden signpost with faded letters in chipped yellow paint. "_Storybrooke Forest Trail_," it read, "_2.0 miles_."

"Two miles, that's not long," Belle said optimistically. She took Rumplestiltskin's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze; he smiled down at her and they set off at a leisurely pace.

The forest truly was a sight to behold. They'd come at just the right time of autumn, those precious few days when every leaf had turned some varying shade of yellow, gold, orange, or even scarlet, giving the canopy overhead the appearance of being on fire. Just enough of the drier, crispier leaves had relinquished their wavering hold on their branches to carpet the forest floor with a thin, patchy layer of papery leaves that crunched beneath Belle and Rumplestiltskin's feet.

For a while they strolled in comfortable silence, their arms bumping into each other and their elbows occasionally jostling. They were content just to enjoy each other's company without the necessity of talking.

When they were about a mile into their walk, the trees began to thicken and blot out the dim, cloudy light from above. The sound of a bird's wings flapping passed by over their heads, and both Belle and Rumplestiltskin looked up to see its dark shape disappear between branches. Rumplestiltskin briefly shut his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose the crisp autumn air. Belle watched him unobtrusively with kind aqua eyes. Rumplestiltskin explained himself. After they'd been walking so long in silence, his voice sounded out of place in the otherwise undisturbed forest.

"When you're deep in the forest like this, with no one else around," he said quietly, "You can almost pretend you're back in the Enchanted Forest." Belle's lips parted slightly; Rumplestiltskin paused in their walking, turning Belle to face the trees to the left of the trail, away from the direction of the town a mile behind them. "Look there," he breathed into her ear, standing over her shoulder and pointing into the trees. Belle looked and saw nothing but bright-topped trees that seemed to go on forever, as far as the eye could see. The ground dipped into the bottom of the hill she realized they were standing on, where the barest trickle of a stream ran wet through the carpet of leaves.

"Close your eyes." Rumplestiltskin's voice was low in Belle's ear. She let her eyes drift shut, felt Rumplestiltskin's steady hand on her shoulder. "Now open them again."

For a moment, she _was_ back in the Enchanted Forest. She breathed in sharply, and then it was gone. She turned and looked up at Rumplestiltskin. For a moment, neither of them said anything. And then she had to ask.

"Do you miss it there?" she asked, voice quiet as Rumplestiltskin's had been. Rumplestiltskin tilted his head and gave the question some thought.

"Sometimes," he admitted, standing behind Belle, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned into his chest and fought back the sadness that always came with thinking of the Enchanted Forest and everything else they'd left behind. "I know I probably shouldn't want to go back," Rumplestiltskin continued rationally. "My life is so much better here. I have money and a house and a car. I have you." He buried his nose in Belle's hair and shut his eyes. Again there was silence.

"I know what you mean," Belle blurted out. She was a little surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth; she hadn't been intending to say them, or even thinking them.

"Hm?" Rumplestiltskin said absently.

"About the Enchanted Forest," Belle clarified. Rumplestiltskin frowned.

"So you miss it too." His eyes opened of their own accord and fixed on the vanishing point of the trees. It was dark in the forest, especially without the sun filtering in through the gaps between the leaves and branches.

"It's like you said." Belle's stomach rose and fell beneath Rumplestiltskin's hands. His thumb rubbed back and forth across the fabric of her shirt. "I know I shouldn't miss it. There are a whole host of reasons why I'm better off here. But…" She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess a part of me will always call it home."

"As much as I'd hate to return to my prison cell in the old world, I'm actually inclined to agree." Belle chuckled mirthlessly.

"Trapped in Regina's tower was hardly an ideal situation for me as well," Belle reminded him. "Although I suppose my situation wasn't much better here, until Jefferson let me out."

"Would you choose to go back, if you could?" Rumplestiltskin asked. Belle pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows together. She took a while to consider it.

"It would depend," she concluded.

"On what?" Belle looked over her shoulder to meet Rumplestiltskin's eyes. Something in her gaze settled the uncertain feeling in his gut.

"Would I still be with you?"

Rumplestiltskin's heart flooded with relief. Belle didn't want to leave him ('_Of course she doesn't_,' the rational part of him said). He was so overcome that he closed the space between them with a kiss. It was intended to be brief, but Belle responded warmly and they remained that way for what could have been hours for all either of them cared.

"I like to think you would," Rumplestiltskin finally answered when they broke away, each grinning, Belle's cheeks tinged pink with cold. He held her chin in his hand with his thumb just beneath her lips. Belle's smile faltered.

"But I wouldn't be able to kiss you," she said. It wasn't a question so much as a statement.

Rumplestiltskin's first instinct was to ask, '_Why on earth wouldn't you be able to kiss me?_' But he answered that for himself almost before the thought had finished forming: the curse.

Did Belle honestly still think that would be a problem? Given the chance to turn back time and relive that day in the Dark Castle when he'd turned her out, he would choose her every time. Hang it all: the power, the magic, the gold. None of it was worth the emptiness he'd had in his heart all those years without her.

Belle was still gazing at him expectantly. Rumplestiltskin answered as diplomatically as he could, though what he wanted to do was shake Belle and ask her how she could still think he would ever give her up.

"True that your kiss would break my curse if we ever returned to the Enchanted Forest," he admitted. Belle's face fell. "But," Rumplestiltskin said, drawing her nearer to him and turning so they faced each other, his hand still cupping her chin, "You know I wouldn't be able to keep from kissing you."

Belle blushed and lowered her gaze. "Yes you would," she muttered, though it only sounded half-convinced. "For your power you would."

Rumplestiltskin frowned, indignant. "Belle," he said, "You don't still think that, do you? You don't still believe there's anything I wouldn't give up for you?" Belle shifted her feet and refused to meet his eyes. He gripped her shoulders tightly. "Belle, I love you more than anything. What do I have to do to convince you of that?"

"I don't know," Belle said with a shrug. "I want to believe it; I do. But… I just… I can't."

She sounded apologetic, like this was somehow her fault. Rumplestiltskin couldn't believe any of this. Did she really not know how perfect she was? Did she really not know how much she meant to him? He wouldn't ever give her up for anything. He wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.

And that's when it occurred to him, that he wanted this forever, and what that meant. And he wondered what it would be like, to do the whole thing properly, with a ring and a white dress and a ceremony. To be honest, it both thrilled and terrified him.

They surely weren't ready for all that.

But this, this matter of Belle not truly believing that he'd changed. That was something they needed to address immediately. And Rumplestiltskin suspected he knew the reason for it.

"I've hurt you too many times," he concluded. He knew that much was true. Of course, Belle tried to deny it.

"No, it's not—" But she couldn't even finish; the words rang blatantly untrue. Rumplestiltskin gave her a look, and she sighed. "Alright, that is probably a part of it," she admitted. For the millionth time, Rumplestiltskin cursed his past self for being such an idiot.

After all this time and all the things he'd tried to convince Belle he wasn't the same man he'd been when he'd cast her out the way he did, Rumplestiltskin still had not completely redeemed himself. Because every time he got the chance to prove himself, he made the wrong choice.

Rumplestiltskin knew he didn't deserve Belle. But he loved her and he needed her, and he wanted to be the best man he could be for her. But how could he be certain he would get another chance, this time to choose right, to choose Belle?

"What can I do to fix this?" Rumplestiltskin asked desperately. Belle shook her head.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter." Rumplestiltskin begged to differ, but he didn't want to drag out such a painful conversation if Belle was done talking about it. Belle took his hand again and they resumed walking.

"Anyway," she said lightly, overcompensating for the heaviness of their previous topic. She smiled up at Rumplestiltskin, seeming truly to put the issue out of her mind. "I think we can both agree the autumns are much prettier here."

Rumplestiltskin gave her hand a squeeze, but inside he was wondering what he could do.

XXX

_**29 September**_

XXX

Rumplestiltskin was on his way to join Belle for lunch at the diner on Monday when he ran into Regina on the street. She seemed upset about something, and Rumplestiltskin suspected it was probably something he'd done, given the way she was storming up to him now like she had a score to settle, but he couldn't imagine what.

"_You_," she said, jabbing a finger at him. "You lied to me."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Rumplestiltskin said flatly. He tried to push past Regina, but she blocked his path.

"Did you really think you could cheat me like that and it wouldn't come back to haunt you?" Regina asked.

"I don't understand, dearie, to what are you referring?" Rumplestiltskin had limited patience with Regina, and today that patience was wearing thin.

"The mermaid," Regina said, and all at once Rumplestiltskin understood.

"Ah," he said shortly. "Regina, that was years ago."

"And I've just found out that you lied to my face, so now I'm a little upset," Regina said with a sneer. "You knew I wanted her voice. You knew _why_ I wanted her voice. And it wouldn't have gotten in your way even in the _slightest_, and yet you were determined to get in my way because you're a bitter, insufferable old man who can't stand to see anyone else get what they want!"

"I don't just do things out of spite," Rumplestiltskin said, but Regina wasn't listening; she continued with her tirade like he hadn't even spoken.

"Well you may have deceived me then, but it may interest you to know that I saw your little mermaid just the other day, and do you know what she was wearing?" Regina jabbed her finger at Rumplestiltskin again, this time prodding him in the chest. "A talisman I instantly recognized as having been enchanted by _you_."

Rumplestiltskin knew better than to try to get a word in edgewise, so he stood back and waited for the Regina storm to blow over.

"So you say you didn't do it out of spite," Regina said, "But you didn't even take her voice for yourself. You just made certain I couldn't get to it."

"And you locked my love in a tower for the exact same reason," Rumplestiltskin countered. "Don't act all high-and-mighty with me, _Your Majesty_; you've done just as much as I have."

Regina was about to say more when a third voice broke up the argument. "What's the problem here?"

It was David, wearing his deputy badge and everything, who stepped between Regina and Rumplestiltskin. The latter sneered and made to step away.

"No problem at all," he said, though the glare he sent Regina suggested otherwise. "If you'll excuse me, I have a lunch date—"

David looked like he was going to insist the two of them stay and explain what was going on, but considering who he was dealing with here, he thought better of it and joined Rumplestiltskin, leaving Regina fuming behind them. "Are you going to Granny's?" he asked. "I was actually headed there too. I'll walk with you." It wasn't a suggestion. Rumplestiltskin looked sideways at David, just about as welcoming as a cactus. A cactus on fire.

"So what was Regina yelling at you for this time?" David asked conversationally, because of course in Storybrooke this was a perfectly normal conversation starter. Rumplestiltskin shook his head.

"Old business," Rumplestiltskin said shortly. "Something that happened years ago."

"In the Enchanted Forest?" David asked.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin said, and he realized something. "Yes, it was around the time I lost Belle." He frowned, paused, and David halted as well, turning to face him with concern.

"Something the matter?" Things between David and Rumplestiltskin were strained at best, but at least they could make conversation without leaping at each other's throats, like Rumplestiltskin and Regina. And David probably really did care if something was wrong, if only because when something was wrong with Rumplestiltskin, everyone around him usually suffered.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Just something that happened yesterday," he said dismissively, continuing on toward the diner, but David persisted.

"Something with Belle?" This was getting to be annoying.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin ground out through gritted teeth.

"Why don't you tell me what it is?" David asked. Rumplestiltskin gave him a look of surprise, and he shrugged. "You're going to be upset for as long as whatever it is takes to fix, and your relationship with Belle is known as the only thing keeping you from terrorizing the town. So if I can help, I'd like to."

Rumplestiltskin considered this, realized David actually had a point, and relented. "She still doesn't believe that I care more about her than I do about power," he muttered, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. "She has no reason to; I've chosen power over her every time it's come up. I just wish…" He let out a breath through his teeth. "I just wish I could give myself another chance."

David shook his head. "You can't _give _yourself chances," he said. Rumplestiltskin shot him a look that asked, '_What the hell do you mean I can't?_' David sighed and explained. "If it doesn't happen _by _chance, then it isn't really _a_ chance. You just have to wait for the opportunity to come on its own."

"That's not exactly how I do things."

"And how has that been working out for you so far?" David countered. Rumplestiltskin glared. By then they'd reached the diner; he pushed open the door with a bit more force than necessary.

"All I'm saying is, you have to take advantage of the chances that come to you naturally," David said as they parted ways, David to sit with Snow on one side of the diner and Rumplestiltskin to join Belle on the other. "You can't engineer your own. You can't force fate."

And the annoying thing was, David was probably right.


	24. Poor Unfortunate Souls

**This Year**

_A/N: Rumplestiltskin knows what he wants, and he thinks he knows what he has to do to get it. Another idea courtesy of Fire's Shadow123._

XXX

**Autumn**

**24: Poor Unfortunate Souls**

XXX

_**7 October**_

XXX

It was a quiet day in the shop. Rumplestiltskin was repairing the cash register, which hadn't worked properly since he couldn't remember when, but it was only just starting to get on his nerves enough to fix it. Rumplestiltskin wasn't especially handy with tools, so he was still experiencing some frustration when he glanced at the large antique clock and realized it was already well past the time he should have left to pick up Belle from the library. He cursed, and threw on his jacket on his way out the door.

Sure enough, when Rumplestiltskin's car screeched to a halt in front of the library, Belle was waiting, and looked like she had been for quite a while. She sat at one of the round tables by the window, staring out into the bleak autumn day, the sky overcast and threatening rain, a few dry, brown leaves clinging to otherwise bare branches. Belle drummed her fingers on the table, checked the time on her phone, glanced down at the book laying open on the table, snapped it shut, looked out the window, drummed her fingers, sighed.

Rumplestiltskin barged in the library door, bringing a gust of wind in behind him. Belle looked up, her face a conflict between being glad to see him and upset that he'd come late.

"What kept you?" she asked instead of reprimanding him.

"Sorry, love, lost track of time," he said. As Belle stood, Rumplestiltskin gently cupped his hands beneath her elbows and placed a kiss on her cheek. "I have a job to finish at the shop," he told her as he led her by the arm out into the fading twilight. The days were growing shorter now; before long it would be dark before dinner. "Would you like me to take you home or would you care to join me?"

"I'll keep you company," Belle offered lightly, climbing into the passenger seat of Rumplestiltskin's car. "Could we stop by home first though?" she requested. "I'd like to pick up my books."

So they went a little out of their way to fetch Belle's math books before returning to the pawnshop. "Just give me an hour longer to see if I can get this damn thing to work," Rumplestiltskin said when they entered the shop and he turned on the lights. He slapped the side of the cash register with his open palm and sneered. "Then we'll go home and I'll make dinner."

Belle nodded and retreated to the corner of the room, pulling up a chair and settling in to study.

Half an hour passed this way in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional burst of frustration from Rumplestiltskin in the form of shaking the cash register and muttering a curse or two under his breath.

At last: "Aha!" Rumplestiltskin exclaimed triumphantly. He tested it out and it slid open without a hitch for the first time in thirty years. "Looks as though I've fixed it," he said, casting one final, uncertain glance at the troublesome object as he crossed to the other side of the counter. "Somehow," he added. Belle chuckled and continued scribbling in her notebook.

"Just give me a minute," she requested. "Then we can leave."

"I'll get your coat," Rumplestiltskin said, grabbing their coats from the hook by the door and donning his own. He then leaned against the counter and waited for Belle to finish what she was currently so focused on.

The bell over the door rang. Belle and Rumplestiltskin turned in unison to see who had come at such a late hour. It was probably a good thing no one had come any earlier, though; the cash register had put Rumplestiltskin in a nasty mood that only Belle's presence could ease.

The person at the door was a delicate woman in her twenties, hair a shocking red and pulled back from her eyes. She wore around her neck a seashell pendant on a black cord. By force of habit, it seemed, she reached up and her fingers brushed the pendant before she properly entered the shop.

Rumplestiltskin recognized the woman immediately, and was briefly taken aback. His eyes widened momentarily – what was _she_ doing here? – before he once again schooled his face into a look of practiced indifference. "How can I help you?" he asked, as unassuming as possible.

Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin's mind was reeling. He hadn't seen this woman in years, and now she just happened to show up, just days after Regina had mentioned her? It was downright bizarre.

The woman looked from Rumplestiltskin to Belle and back again. She opened her mouth and mimed being unable to speak. '_Of course_,' Rumplestiltskin thought. He gave an imperceptible nod of his head, more to himself than to anyone else.

Not picking up on Rumplestiltskin's awareness of what was going on, Belle, looking up from her algebra book, tilted her head to the side and assessed the situation. "I think she's mute," she concluded. "Or deaf." She raised her voice and addressed the newcomer. "Can you hear?"

The woman nodded. Belle pursed her lips in thought and returned her attention to her schoolwork. At least, she seemed to, but Rumplestiltskin knew she would only be pretending to work at the problems, while most of her attention was in fact devoted to listening in on the exchange that was about to occur.

Not minding if Belle listened in, Rumplestiltskin turned his attention more fully to the silent woman, folding his hands on the counter beside him and regarding her coolly. "What is it you've come for, then, dearie?" He had his suspicions, of course, but best not to come across too presumptuous. He didn't want Belle to think he had been expecting this girl. The only time he'd thought about her in years was when Regina confronted him about it.

The woman looked around the room, then mimed writing on the air in front of her. In the corner of the room, Belle hurriedly turned to a blank page in her notebook, quickly made her way to where the mute woman stood, and handed her the notebook and a pen for her to write down what she needed to say.

"Here," Belle said helpfully. "Use this." The woman nodded gratefully. After a moment of Belle lingering, Rumplestiltskin gave her a meaningful look. She caught his eye and received his unspoken message.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, taking a step back. "Right, I'll just…" she slowly made her way over to her corner again, "Be right over here. Don't mind me."

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes and once again turned back to the red-haired woman, who now stood at the counter scribbling furiously. She thrust the notebook at Rumplestiltskin and he read what she'd written:

"_I trust you know why I'm here?_"

"Indeed I do," he said aloud, folding his hands and regarding her with thinly veiled scrutiny. "You want your voice back."

The redhead grabbed the notebook back and continued: "_Erik and I have found each other again in this world. But he doesn't know who I am, and I can't tell him who I was or how I feel without my voice; he won't believe me. I need my voice. I can't keep living like this without him._" She gave Rumplestiltskin a significant look, then nodded toward Belle. "_Surely you of all people must understand._"

Her last words stung like thorns, but Rumplestiltskin brushed them off. Of course he understood; the years he had to live without Belle weren't really living at all. But that didn't mean he had to go around making sure everyone had their happy endings with the ones they loved; it just wasn't his responsibility.

"We made a deal, Ariel," Rumplestiltskin reminded her, using her name for the first time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Belle testing out the name, forming it with her lips: "_Ariel_." Rumplestiltskin's lips quirked into a momentary smile; he went on, "Your voice for those legs. You're lucky I offered you that deal, too; if I'd stood by and let you go to Regina, rest assured, she would not have been so generous."

"_I don't know of anyone who would call you 'generous.'_" Ariel raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"Compared to the Queen?" Rumplestiltskin quirked an eyebrow in turn. Ariel pursed her lips.

"_I need my voice_," she wrote. "_There must be some way I can get it back._"

"I gave you a way," Rumplestiltskin said. He gestured to the shell pendant. "The necklace."

Ariel closed her fist around the pendant and shook her head. "_You said all I had to do was shatter it, but that if I do, I'll lose my legs._" Rumplestiltskin shrugged.

"You have to ask yourself if it's worth it. But there isn't a third option."

Ariel pursed her lips and considered what she would write. "_I know we made a deal_," she penned. "_I'm not asking you to break it. I'm asking you to make a new deal._" She looked up at him expectantly, her desperation growing with every word he spoke.

Now Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "I don't make deals anymore," was his instinctive response. Ariel's face fell, and he even felt Belle's eyes on his back, awaiting his next move. Even though she was only hearing Rumplestiltskin's side of the conversation, surely by then Belle had a tentative grasp of what was going on between the former mermaid and the dealmaker. If Rumplestiltskin screwed this up or made the wrong move, Belle would be very disappointed with him. And after their conversation in the forest the other day, he couldn't afford that. "I suppose, however, I could make an exception," he said, though a part of him suspected he would regret this, "Considering it's more of an amendment than a new deal altogether."

"_I'll make it worth your while_," Ariel rapidly scrawled. "_I have something you want. I've reunited with my father, explained everything, and he said he'll help me._" Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow.

"Understood, did he?" Rumplestiltskin was having trouble believing that, after all the trouble Ariel had been willing to go through to get her legs, to get her prince, she had never thought to go to her father and "explain everything." The very idea that a man so stubborn and set in his ways as King Trident would be so easily swayed was laughable. More likely Ariel had gone to him as a last resort, explained everything, and Trident had said something along the lines of "I told you so" and reluctantly agreed not to disown her completely. Still, if Ariel wanted to believe Rumplestiltskin would fall for her shoddily constructed lie, he would humor her.

"So what you're saying is a good long talk with your father could have spared you all this trouble?" Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "That really renders our whole deal a bit superfluous, doesn't it?"

Ariel ignored his comments and wrote, "_I'm offering you my father's trident. His trident for my voice._"

"The trident?" Rumplestiltskin gave pause. He had to take this slowly, give everything due consideration before jumping into anything rash. The trident was an object of immense power, and more than worth returning Ariel's voice. But it was, he suspected, too good to be true. There had to be a catch. He knew enough about the art of deal-making – more than anyone else – to know there was always, _always_ a catch.

"The trident," Rumplestiltskin repeated, testing out the word, how it sounded, how it felt. "Well that makes this interesting. And your father somehow still has it, after all this?"

"_It was in his garage with all sorts of junk for all these years_," Ariel wrote, "_But when you brought magic to Storybrooke, its power returned._"

There was something amiss here, and Rumplestiltskin was pretty sure he knew what it was. "All that power," he said slowly, "And your father would just give it up so his daughter can be with a man he never approved of?" He shook his head. "I find that hard to believe."

"_Believe what you want, I have the trident. I'm offering what you've always wanted: power._"

Power. Ariel's words cut straight to Rumplestiltskin's heart. He turned to look over his shoulder at Belle, her eyes focused on her textbook but her ears intently listening to the one-sided conversation.

What he'd always wanted. A year ago, that would have been true. But a year ago, Belle had been, for all intents and purposes, dead. Now she was back in his life, for good this time – he would make sure of that – and that changed everything. Now it was impossible to tell. What did he want? What would he do with the trident? Gain more power for himself, to what end? Belle would never forgive him. What was his life without her in it?

Ariel was writing something more while Rumplestiltskin was lost in thought; he read it when she held the notebook up. "_Do you want my father's trident or not?_"

"Ye—uh," Rumplestiltskin cut himself off, unable to take his eyes off Belle. She had felt his gaze and looked up to meet it, doing a poor job of masking her concern. Rumplestiltskin held up a finger. "Give me a minute." He made for the back room, passing the corner where Belle sat, inconspicuously "reading." "Belle?"

Belle joined Rumplestiltskin in the darkened back room. He explained the situation in a hushed tone; Belle nodded in all the right places and was careful to keep her face from giving away any of her feelings on the matter. When Rumplestiltskin finished catching her up, he asked, "What do you think I should do?"

Belle seemed mildly surprised that he had asked. "Why are you asking me? I know nothing about making deals, and even less about magic. The only deal I ever made was with you."

"I ask because I care about your opinion, Belle," Rumplestiltskin said, his hands cupping her elbows. "I care about _you_." Belle sighed and looked down at his arms on her arms.

"So what's so special about this trident?" she asked gently. Rumplestiltskin was hesitant to answer, but he knew he had to be honest.

"It's… very powerful."

Belle met his eyes, and it was like a knife in his chest. Even worse was the single word she uttered: "Oh."

"What?" Rumplestiltskin asked desperately. "What is it?" Belle shrugged a shoulder and averted her gaze.

"Nothing, just…" She took a breath. "There it is again. _Power_." She spat out the word like it was poison. The knife dug deeper, twisted in Rumplestiltskin's chest. Their conversation in the forest the other day haunted him, when he'd promised he would always choose her. Now look at him, already having second thoughts. He hated himself for it. Was he really all just talk? Maybe Belle was right.

Belle shook her head and looked at Rumplestiltskin again, her face resigned. "You know what?" she said bitterly. "Make the deal. I know you want to. So do it. It shouldn't matter what I think. This is your decision."

She walked briskly from the room, collected her things, and Rumplestiltskin heard the jangling of her keys and her sharp footsteps leaving the shop. "I'll be in the car when you're ready to leave," she said, and the door slammed shut, plunging everything into silence.

Rumplestiltskin frowned and stared after her. "I don't want this to be my decision," he said quietly. "I want this to be _our_ decision."

His choice was obvious now. There was no question about it.

In the shop's main area, Ariel was tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for him. When she saw Rumplestiltskin emerge, she wrote a single word: "_So?_"

"No deal," Rumplestiltskin said with a note of finality. Ariel looked shocked, furious.

"_I want my voice back._"

"And you'll get it," Rumplestiltskin assured her. "But I don't want your father's trident. Return it to him. And instead, bring me something else."

Ariel scrunched up her eyebrows. "_What?_" she wrote. Rumplestiltskin glanced out the window at Belle waiting in the car, out of earshot. What did he want that Ariel could procure for him?

He thought about what he wanted, but all he could think of was Belle.

Ariel gave him a strange look, followed his line of vision, and smiled. She then wrote: "_I think I know something I could get for you._"


	25. Kiss the Girl

**This Year**

_A/N: Continuation of the idea presented to me by Fire's Shadow123._

XXX

**Autumn**

**25: Kiss the Girl**

XXX

_**8 October**_

XXX

Ariel was always an observer, even before she lost the ability to speak. Growing up in the sea, she'd had a fascination with humans that the rest of her kind had regarded as unnatural. Whenever she could get away from the judgmental eyes of the court of Atlantis, Ariel would swim to the surface for hours on end to watch the humans. She studied and memorized their behavior, their relationships, their interaction, their clothing, their culture, and their speech. All her experience had paid off in unexpected ways; she could deduce important details from tiny clues in a person's appearance or body language.

So naturally Ariel knew all about Belle and Rumplestiltskin's relationship, and not just that they were, in fact, _in_ a relationship. She knew that they loved each other deeply, and that they'd known each other for a very long time, had met in the Enchanted Forest. She wouldn't be surprised if Belle had been the woman Rumplestiltskin was so torn up over when Ariel first met him. She remembered it well…

XXX

_In the summer of her twentieth year, Ariel's latest fascination was with the handsome captain of a local fishing vessel. His name was Erik, and the name of his boat was the _Siren Call_. She followed it out to sea one day, watching the fishermen from afar as they went about their work. Come evening, they sailed back to shore, and she followed them then, as far as she could go until the waters grew too shallow and the shoreline too near. And then she watched as they unloaded their catch of the day, lingered near the rocks until they were gone from sight._

_Her heart ached. She longed for the freedom these men seemed to have. More than anything in the world she wanted to be like them. Her title as the princess of Atlantis, her power and her palace, they meant nothing to her._

_And the fisherman, Erik. Usually Ariel's fancy was a fleeting thing, her crushes brief and never substantial. Usually she observed the current object of her desire for a few days before finding their fatal flaw: one was too arrogant, one too quick with the sword, and one treated his shipmates like absolute garbage. But Erik… Ariel had been observing him for almost two months now, and with every flaw she discovered – the way he never seemed to stop grooming and fixing his already perfect hair, and could never finish the sentences he started without someone to prompt him – she only grew to like him more._

_With a deep and longing sigh, Ariel forced herself to look away from the now-abandoned boat. She was about to turn tail and swim back to her father's palace, the great castle of Atlantis under the sea, when she saw a figure sitting on the rocks. He – she was fairly certain it was a man – was perched precariously on the edge, sitting cross-legged, staring out over the water as the sun splashed red and orange over the horizon._

_Indiscreetly and beneath the water, Ariel swam up to the man, gazing up at him from beneath the waves that crashed against the shoals. She couldn't distinguish much about him; curious as always, she peeked her head above the waves._

"_I was wondering when you were going to show your face, dearie," a high-pitched voice said. Ariel darted back, her tail flicking up water that splashed the man sitting on the rocks, the man to whom the high-pitched voice belonged._

_Above the water, Ariel could make out the details of the man's appearance, and she wasn't certain he was a man at all. He was different from any man Ariel had seen. His hair was long and stringy, his skin rough, his eyes dark, and his smile menacing. But Ariel had seen creatures in the sea less inviting than he; in the end, it wasn't his appearance that led her to distrust him. It was the gleam in his eyes. Others might mistake it as madness; Ariel knew it to be something else, something far more sinister._

"_Ah, ah, ah," the man warned as Ariel moved to swim away, holding up a finger. "You won't want to be swimming away before you hear what I have to say."_

_Ariel scrunched up her eyebrows but did not speak. She mostly ignored nearly all her father's rules, but there was one that even she was terrified to break: Never speak to humans._

_Apparently, though, this man knew more than most humans. "Oh, come now, dearie," he said, and something about the way he said the word – "dearie" – sent chills down Ariel's spine. "There's no need for all that. I know you can talk. I know more than you think. Your Highness."_

_Ariel blanched. How did this man know her? She had only ever spoken to one other human in her life. "Who are you?" she asked aloud. It felt strange, speaking above the water, in the air._

"_I go by many names," the man said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, nearer to the water. "But who I am is none of your concern."_

"_It is if you know who I am," Ariel countered. "How do you know who I am? Who told you?"_

"_No one told me," the man said. "Let's just call it… intuition." He winked. Ariel cringed._

"_Why are you here?" she demanded, keeping a safe distance from this suspicious stranger. She couldn't trust this man._

"_I've come to offer you a deal," he said. "It's kind of what I do. I find those poor, unfortunate souls in need and I offer them what they want. For a price." He reached forward, grabbing Ariel's chin in his hand, squinting into her eyes and sneering. "I know how to recognize a desperate soul when I see one."_

_Ariel wrenched her face away from the man's tight grip, her breath shallow. She wasn't used to so much oxygen; it was making her feel lightheaded. "I already have someone who can give me what I want," she said._

"_The Queen?" the man asked knowingly and with a smirk. Ariel averted her gaze. "True, she promised you your legs. But pray tell, what did she ask for in return?" Ariel wouldn't answer, but it seemed the man already knew. "Was it your voice?" The man's wicked smile disappeared in the blink of an eye, replaced by a dangerous grimness. "A mermaid's voice is a powerful thing," he said, his voice lower now, deeper. He then reverted to his lilting, high-pitched tones. "And am I also correct in assuming you did not yet take the Queen up on her oh-so-enticing offer?"_

"_I told her I needed to think about it," Ariel said carefully._

"_Well think no further, my dearest Ariel." The man sprang to his feet with a flourish of his hands. "The Queen Regina cannot be trusted, though I couldn't expect you to know that. You spend your time beneath the waves and have never heard tell of her treachery."_

_Once again, Ariel's curiosity got the better of her. "What treachery?" she asked._

"_Regina is notorious for her treachery," the man explained. "It began when she banished her own mother to a world of exile, and it didn't stop there. She arranged the death of her husband and has long had her sights set on the heart of her stepdaughter. She is vengeful and wicked and will not hesitate to crush you if it happens to stand in her best interest."_

"_And you would not?" Ariel asked, skeptical. She didn't trust this man, not one bit._

_He leaned forward again, getting down on one knee and bending over the water. "I always honor my deals," he said. "You can count on that."_

_Ariel frowned. "And how would you benefit from this?" she asked._

"_Simple," the man said, sitting on the edge of the rock again, this time with his feet dangling beneath him in the water. "I make a habit of getting in the Queen's way as much as possible. Let's just say it's in _my_ best interest to do so." He smirked again. "I need a way to make sure she never gets your precious voice, and to do so, I'll need you to cooperate with me on something." He waved his hand and a seashell materialized in his palm, hung by a black cord to be a necklace. "I give you what you want – your legs, your freedom – so long as you agree to forfeit your voice, but not to me. Instead, we'll keep it trapped in this little pendant right here, locked up with a magic spell not even the Queen could break. It'll stay safely around your neck and out of her reach."_

"_But I would never talk again," Ariel said._

"_Not necessarily," the man said. "If at any point you should wish to have your lovely voice back, you need only shatter the shell and it will be returned to you. But be warned: if you decide to do this, you will also lose your legs."_

_He held the seashell out to Ariel, and she took it, turning it over in her hands. "I guess that's fair," she said. It was certainly better than the Queen Regina's offer; this way, at least she had an out._

"_It's more than fair," the man agreed, "But that's not all. First you must tell me, though, dearie, what is it that you're chasing with your dreams of walking on land with the humans?"_

_Ariel bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him, figuring he probably already knew and the asking was merely a formality, resolving she may as well have out with it. "There's a man," she said. "Erik." The dealmaker's face instantly hardened, his gaze like stone._

"_Chasing the love of your short little life, are we, princess?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. His voice was low again, and cold. Ariel shivered. What had she said that had invoked this man's anger so quickly, and without warning?_

"_I don't know if it's love," she said slowly, cautiously, "But it could be."_

_The man sneered. "How touching," he said bitterly, spitting out the words. He once again took Ariel's face in his hand, squeezing just beneath her cheekbones with his thumb and forefinger. "Someone young and foolish enough to still believe in love. And you'd give up all you have to chase the mere dream of it; oh, this world will chew you up and spit you out before you realize what kind of heartless reality it is that hit you." He let her go abruptly, casting her into the water; she was thrown back with a splash._

"_Alright, dearie, since you're so full of wishful thinking," he said with a dangerous smirk, "I'll even make a little wager. If, through some miracle, you and your darling Erik manage to share in True Love's Kiss, you will get your voice back _and_ keep your legs forever."_

"_You really believe so little in true love?" Ariel asked, tilting her head to the side. What, she wondered, could have happened to this man to disenchant him so entirely?_

"_If true love even does exist – of which I am very much doubtful – it is so incredibly hard to come by that you're more likely to sprout legs all on your own than find it with the first handsome sailor you set eyes on." He stood and dusted himself off, still regarding Ariel with a look of pure condescension and disdain. "But good luck trying."_

_As he walked away, he shouted instructions over his shoulder. "You put that necklace on and sing a few bars; it'll capture your voice and your wish will be granted." He cast a glance over his shoulder. "Make sure you're near enough to the shore when you do so."_

XXX

And she'd tried, once the curse was broken and she regained her memories, to win Erik's heart and share in True Love's Kiss, but it was so very difficult to find true love with someone you couldn't speak to. So going to Rumplestiltskin had been Ariel's last resort, and luckily he had been willing to amend their deal.

Knowing what she did about Rumplestiltskin, Ariel was surprised that he had turned down the offer of her father's trident. In retrospect, it must have been something Belle said when he'd taken her into the other room; clearly she distrusted magic, at least how Rumplestiltskin was known to use it.

But Ariel was in no position to question the man's decision. She'd gotten what she wanted, had even arranged a date with Erik during which she intended to explain everything.

As for what she would be giving Rumplestiltskin, Ariel was observant enough to know just what he needed. She peered into her purse to check that she'd brought it, and then approached the pawnshop.

Ariel barged in the door already talking. "I have—oh." She cut off, not seeing Rumplestiltskin, but instead Belle, sitting on the counter with her legs crossed. Ariel scanned the room for signs of Rumplestiltskin's presence and found none. "Where is Rumplestiltskin?" she asked Belle, who by then had given Ariel her full attention. Belle's eyes lit up at the sound of Ariel's voice.

"You can talk!" she exclaimed with sincere joy. Ariel decided she liked this woman, Belle. She was kind and genuine. That kind of person was, in Ariel's experience, rare and difficult to come by. She nodded.

"Yes, I made my deal with Rumplestiltskin and got my voice back," she said. It was still at times a marvel, hearing the sound of her own voice again after so many, many years.

The way Belle's face fell slightly when she realized what this meant was not lost on Ariel. "So you gave him your father's trident?" Belle assumed.

Ariel shook her head. "No. He said he didn't want it."

Belle was shocked, Ariel was sure, but it only registered on her face as a slight raising of her eyebrows. "What? How could he not want it? What did he ask for instead?" Ariel pursed her lips, considering the best way to phrase this.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," she said apologetically. "It's a bit of a surprise. I know that doesn't make much sense, but trust me, you'll soon see."

"That sounds fair." Belle smiled and she didn't press the issue. She changed the topic straightaway. "You were looking for Rumplestiltskin?"

Suddenly Ariel remembered her original mission. "Yes," she said, craning her neck to scan the room again, as if she expected Rumplestiltskin to leap out of the shadows at any moment. It wasn't unheard of. "Is he here?"

"No, he went to get lunch for us both. But if you need to talk to him, he should be back any minute."

"Great," Ariel said.

There was a lengthy, uncomfortable pause between the two women who had next to nothing in common. Never afraid of being awkward, Ariel spoke. "So what's the deal between you and Rumplestiltskin?"

Belle raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

Ariel boldly hoisted herself up to sit next to Belle on the counter. Belle looked her up and down but didn't say anything.

"I mean," Ariel said, "Everyone knows you're in a relationship, but very few people know the details. How long has it been? You're living together, right? Has he proposed? Do you think he will?"

Belle shifted uncomfortably. Ariel sometimes had that effect on people. She was curious, and she was frank; as her father used to put it, an unfortunate but entertaining combination. It was one of the reasons it may not have been such a bad thing Ariel had lost her voice for a while there. She had a tough time annoying people when she couldn't say a word.

"Um, let's see," Belle said, sounding overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. "Yes, we live together, and no, he hasn't proposed, and I can't see him doing so any time soon. As for how long, we met in the old world. For a while I was actually his housekeeper."

That explained a lot. "That's—" Ariel began, but was interrupted when the bell above the door rang again and Rumplestiltskin entered the shop.

"Rumplestiltskin!" Belle exclaimed. "You're back!"

Ignoring Ariel, Rumplestiltskin went straight up to Belle, placed the bags from Granny's beside her on the counter, and took her hands in his. "Belle, darling, I brought lunch," he said warmly. Belle beamed. It was sweet to see her light up like this around her true love. Ariel felt like she was somehow intruding upon some deeply intimate moment, even though it was just ordinary, domestic couple stuff.

"Fantastic," Belle gushed, "I'm starving." Both she and Rumplestiltskin leaned forward to kiss each other deeply and searchingly before breaking apart, at least somewhat conscious of Ariel's presence.

"Ariel stopped by to talk to you about your deal," Belle said, her voice still airy with the lightheadedness that comes from kissing. A smile played across Rumplestiltskin's lips. His hand lingered on Belle's cheek.

"You set out lunch while I take care of this," he murmured to Belle. She nodded and slid gracefully off the counter. Ariel followed suit. "Ariel, right this way."

Rumplestiltskin led Ariel into the back room. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to her with obvious anticipation. "What do you have for me?" he asked, some of that old Dark One gleam in his eyes. Ariel reached into her purse and withdrew a small silver jewelry box.

"Two things," she said. "First, this. You may not know this, but here, my name is Jodi Fisher and I own the local jewelry store." She opened the box and held it up for Rumplestiltskin to see. It contained a pair of simple pearl earrings. Rumplestiltskin took them from her and nodded appreciatively.

"Now that you mention it, I do remember seeing you there," he remarked. He pocketed the jewelry box. "These are lovely, thank you."

"I would have gone with something a little fancier, but from what I've seen of Belle's taste, I thought she would appreciate these more," Ariel explained. She then reached into her purse a second time. "As for the second thing…"

She withdrew another box, this one darker in color and without the jewelry shop logo, and placed it in Rumplestiltskin's hand. "This one isn't from the shop. Call it a… personal item." She shrugged. "But I thought it might come in handy. Just in case."

Rumplestiltskin flipped open the box and inspected the contents. His eyebrows arched up, but he didn't say a word, just snapped the box shut and slipped it into a hidden drawer in a table behind him beneath an embroidered tablecloth.

"I'm not sure how soon I'll be needing that, if I ever do," he said, "But thank you, dearie. Looks like you're free to go. Have fun with your sailor."

Ariel smirked, shooting Rumplestiltskin a knowing look over her shoulder as she exited the room. "Have fun with your housekeeper."

XXX

Belle and Rumplestiltskin got home that evening and made dinner together, making idle small talk about their days. Belle smiled and laughed and shared a cute story about Alexandra, but all the while was distracted by the conversation she'd had with Ariel in the shop.

If Rumplestiltskin hadn't asked for the trident, what _had_ Ariel given him in return for her voice?

Once they sat down to eat, Belle found she couldn't hold her questions in any longer. Striving to sound casual, she set down her fork and asked, "So what did Ariel come to see you about today?"

"There was just the matter of a few loose ends that needed to be tied up," Rumplestiltskin said. He didn't sound as if he was hiding anything, but then again, he rarely did. His aloofness irritated Belle; why couldn't he be straightforward with her for once?

"But you didn't make your deal," she said, coming right out with what she wanted to say. Rumplestiltskin gave her an odd look.

"Of course I did," he said. "You heard her when she came by the shop; Ariel got her voice back. And I got what I wanted."

Belle pointed a finger at him. "No, you didn't," she said. "You wanted her father's trident. But when she came by she told me that isn't what you ended up bargaining for. Why didn't you?"

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "I didn't want it," he simply said.

"Yes, you did," Belle argued. "I know you did. Don't lie to me, Rumplestiltskin. What did you trade for instead? Something better?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"More powerful?" Belle demanded.

"Not as such, no." Belle narrowed her eyes.

"What was it, then?"

Rumplestiltskin sighed and got to his feet. "I was hoping to surprise you, but if you insist." He walked over to the kitchen, where there was a drawer wherein he kept his miscellaneous objects – rubber bands, hooks, keys, a spare screwdriver, a set of nail clippers – and withdrew a silver box, which he presented to Belle. "Here," he said. "For you." She gave Rumplestiltskin a curious look and opened it, then gasped.

"These are beautiful!" she exclaimed, taking the pearl earrings out of the box and sliding them into her ears. "Are they really what you traded for?" she asked.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin said.

Belle finished putting the earrings in, stood up, and darted over to the mirror in the hall, admiring her reflection. She couldn't stop grinning, even when she turned to confront Rumplestiltskin about this unexpected deal.

"Why did you say no?" she asked. "You wanted that trident."

"You told me not to take it," Rumplestiltskin said, as if it were really that simple. As if it could ever be that simple.

"I told you to do what you wanted." Although Belle was pretty sure her intentions had been clear when she'd stormed out of the pawnshop the day before.

"I read between the lines," Rumplestiltskin said with the shadow of a smirk.

Still, Belle was having trouble believing this. "You would really pass up that much power because I said I didn't like the idea?"

"I keep telling you," Rumplestiltskin said, "I'd give up anything for you."

"Trident aside, though, you could have asked for anything in return for giving that woman her voice back, and instead you asked for earrings?" Belle shook her head. "I just… I never expected…"

"When it came down to it, you didn't think I would make you my number one priority," Rumplestiltskin surmised. Belle felt a pang of guilt for having ever doubted him. Not that she'd had much reason to believe otherwise, at the time.

"I didn't," Belle said truthfully, looking at Rumplestiltskin over the table. "I'm sorry."

Rumplestiltskin sighed and set down his utensils. "Do you at least believe me now when I tell you there's nothing I wouldn't do for you?" he asked.

"I don't know," Belle replied honestly. She had to think about it. But apparently Rumplestiltskin wasn't satisfied with that answer.

"How can you not know?" he exclaimed. "Either you trust me or you don't; which is it?"

"You can't put that kind of pressure on me!" Belle protested. She slammed her fork down on the table. "Of course I trust you! I love you and I trust you and I wish…" She stopped, realizing she sounded a bit hysterical, and calmed herself down. "I wish we wouldn't fight."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head and sighed. It seemed that both of their brief outbursts had zapped them of their energy. Only then did Belle realize how tired she was, not physically, but emotionally.

Belle leaned back in her chair, her hand going to her forehead. "Do you sometimes wonder," she asked, "If we're actually meant to be happy and we just keep going out of our way to ruin it, and we don't even realize?"

"It feels that way, doesn't it?" The two of them sat back, each looking away from each other. Why did it have to be so difficult, Belle wondered? Sometimes it felt as though they just weren't meant to be, but how could true love ever not be meant to be?

Rumplestiltskin looked at their half-eaten plates. "I'm no longer hungry. Are you finished?"

"Yes, I don't think I can eat anymore," Belle said. Her appetite had fled the moment their argument began. Rumplestiltskin gathered their plates and utensils and dumped them in the sink to be washed later. When he returned to the table, he sat down with a huff.

"Why are we even doing this?" Belle asked, overwhelmed. Rumplestiltskin gazed down at the table and spoke quietly.

"Because I feel like I'm always doing everything I can to prove myself to you," he admitted. "I wish I could make up my mind. Half the time I want you to leave me because I know you deserve better, and half the time I'm willing to live with feeling constantly inadequate so long as it means I can always have you near." He held his head in his hands and sighed. "I wish I could have met you under different circumstances." He reached for her hand on the table and gave it a weak squeeze. "I wish I could have loved you properly."

"I don't," Belle said, meeting his eyes. Rumplestiltskin regarded her strangely. "I don't wish for anything to be different or ever to have been different because then I might not have you right here, right now with me. I wouldn't risk any change because I like the way we are. In this reality, I have you and we're happy. But it's entirely possible a better version of Rumplestiltskin might not have looked twice at a girl like me."

"Don't say that," Rumplestiltskin told her, gripping her hand with more strength than before. Belle shrugged her shoulders gracefully.

"Don't say you wish I'd leave you," she countered.

"Sometimes I think it might be less complicated if you did," Rumplestiltskin admitted. Belle frowned.

"I'm not looking for easy," she told him. "I'm in this for the long run and if you're not okay with that, then you've got the wrong girl."

"How long do you mean?" Rumplestiltskin asked. Belle thought that was a silly question.

"Forever, of course," she said, and the corner of her mouth turned up slightly. "Don't be stupid."

Belle's smile was contagious. Rumplestiltskin grinned. His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "I want that too," he said. Belle leaned forward, and something in Rumplestiltskin's eyes dispelled every last doubt from her mind.

"Do you know what?" she said, getting to her feet, taking his other hand and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "I think I might actually believe you this time."


	26. Jack-o-Lanterns

**This Year**

_A/N: The first of three Halloween-themed chapters. Rumplestiltskin hates Halloween, but Red thinks she can change that. In addition, Belle begins to develop a bit of a problem. It isn't evident at first, but the seeds have been planted…_

XXX

**Autumn**

**26: Jack-o-Lanterns**

XXX

_**17 October**_

XXX

It was a Friday evening. Belle walked into the diner after closing the library to pay a visit to Red and Granny. Emma was there with Henry, having dinner, as well as a few others scattered amongst the tables and booths. Red was at the counter, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she jammed a knife into a rather large pumpkin. Another waitress had taken over Red's shift so she could work on the seasonal decorations.

Belle came up behind Red and perched on the barstool nearest to her. She watched Red carve into the pumpkin with curiosity and confusion in her eyes. "What on earth are you doing?" she asked with a hint of amusement. Red let out a deep breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and stood up straight, stretching her spine after being hunched over for so long. She left the knife sticking out of the face of the pumpkin and turned to her friend.

"Carving pumpkins," she said, gesturing to a haphazard cluster of already finished pumpkins sitting off to the side. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Belle squinted at the pumpkins and screwed up her nose.

"Why?" she asked. Red tilted her head to the side. _Why?_ What kind of a question was that?

"What do you mean, why?" She held up one of the finished pumpkin faces for Belle to see. "They're decorations." When Belle still looked at her with puzzlement, Red explained further. "For Halloween."

"Oh," Belle said. "I've never really done Halloween." She shrugged and reached across the counter. Granny had left a half-finished crossword sitting next to the cash register. "Granny, would you mind if I took over this crossword puzzle?" Belle called over to where Granny sat at the other end of the counter.

"Go for it," Granny said with a wave of her hand. Belle borrowed a pencil and tapped it against her chin while she read the crossword clues.

Red stood by, mouth hanging open and shaking her head. "Excuse me," she said, grabbing Belle's shoulder to turn Belle toward her. "You can't just tell me you've never experienced Halloween and change the subject just like that!"

Belle crinkled her eyebrows. "What's the problem?" she asked. "It's just a holiday."

"'_Just a holiday_'?" Red repeated incredulously, slapping down the knife she'd only just pried from the half-carved pumpkin. "Halloween is the best holiday of the year! Everyone dresses up in costumes and all the little kids go door-to-door collecting candy and the whole town has a costume party at the old firehouse! It's so much fun!"

"And this whole pumpkin thing?" Belle waved her hand at the carved pumpkin.

"Oh, it's called a jack-o-lantern," Red explained. "You carve a hole in the top of a pumpkin and take out all the gross guts and seeds inside and then you carve a face, put it outside your door or whatever, light a candle inside, and it makes a neat little holiday decoration!" She grabbed one of the finished jack-o-lanterns and held it up proudly. "Aren't they fun? Granny and I go all out with our decorations. Fake cobwebs, headstones out front, cool flashing lights, creepy noises that activate when you walk past these motion sensitive plastic skulls, little ghosts made out of handkerchiefs hanging from the ceiling…" She gestured grandly with her arms, clearly caught up in the Halloween spirit. "We even have this old dummy we made up to look like a corpse!"

Belle grimaced. "Sounds freaky," she said.

"That's the point!" Red exclaimed, nearly bursting with enthusiasm. "Halloween is all about fear and illusion and things that are scary or strange. It's the best! You'd love it." She grabbed both of Belle's arms and looked at her with pleading eyes. "You _have_ to do Halloween this year. _Promise_ me. At _least_ come to the party!"

"Okay, okay, I'll see what Rumplestiltskin thinks about it," Belle said.

Red frowned but let the subject drop. She should've known Belle would first want Rumplestiltskin to get on board. And he never would. Rumplestiltskin _hated_ Halloween; the whole town knew it. Trick-or-treaters gave his house a wide berth. One year, when the firehouse party got too loud, he called Sheriff Graham and had them all kicked out for exceeding the building's maximum occupancy limit.

As if the mere mention of his name had summoned him – and Red wouldn't have been surprised if it had – Rumplestiltskin entered the diner, cane in hand. His eyes swept the premises before settling on Belle, seated on the counter. He also spotted Red and sneered at her pumpkin carving. Red glared right back. "Halloween Scrooge," she muttered under her breath.

"There you are," Rumplestiltskin said to Belle with an instant and genuine smile. Belle grinned right back, and Red pursed her lips. It was a difficult thing to be angry with Rumplestiltskin when she saw how happy he made Belle.

Rumplestiltskin reached out to Belle, and she took her hand from where she sat. There remained a few feet of space between them, so she had to lean forward and it was something of a stretch. "I thought I might find you here," Rumplestiltskin said.

"Sorry, I completely forgot to let you know when I left the library," Belle said. "I wanted to see Red before going home."

"Not a problem." Red saw Rumplestiltskin discreetly give his free hand a slight wave, and suddenly Belle slid off the stool and stumbled into his arms, as if shoved by some invisible force. Red saw Belle look over her shoulder to see if someone had pushed her, then turn back to Rumplestiltskin suspiciously. Red raised an eyebrow and braced herself. Magic was one of the few things that could get Belle seriously angry.

"Was that magic I just felt?" Belle asked. Rumplestiltskin looked at her with a wide-eyed, innocent look.

"I've no idea what you mean, dearie," he said, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. Yet Belle didn't say anything. Weird.

"Red was just telling me about Halloween," Belle said instead, bringing up what she surely thought was a harmless, neutral topic. Red shook her head and went back to carving, keeping one eye on the couple.

"Oh?" Rumplestiltskin said. Red chuckled at the strain she heard in his voice and turned to face him when she felt his eyes on her back.

"Did you know your girlfriend has never celebrated Halloween?" she said with a dangerous hint of a smile. "Unbelievable, isn't it?"

In the corner booth, Henry was whispering to Emma. Red caught what he was saying with her wolf-hearing: "Mr. Gold hates Halloween," he explained. "Every year a bunch of drunk teenagers throw eggs and toilet paper at his house."

Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed. "Miss Lucas, a word?" he said through gritted teeth. Red broke out into a grin and followed him off to the side. "What the hell are you up to?" he demanded.

"I think Belle deserves to celebrate Halloween properly," Red said defiantly, standing her ground. "And so do you." She jabbed a finger at his chest. Rumplestiltskin glared. If looks could kill, Red would've spontaneously burst into flames.

"If you love Halloween so much, why don't _you_ give her the 'full experience'?" Rumplestiltskin said, quirking an eyebrow in challenge. Red shrugged and twirled a strand of hair.

"I dunno," she said airily. "I guess I figure it should be fun to see you suffer."

Rumplestiltskin leaned forward on his cane and remained unaffected. "I fail to see how you could possibly convince me to go along with _any_ of this." He gestured vaguely to everything around them.

"Trust me, if I can convince Belle, she'll do the rest for me," Red said with a satisfied smirk. "Now it's your choice. Are you going to do things my way, or am I going to have to use your girlfriend to manipulate you into doing what I want?"

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. "You underestimate me, Miss Lucas," he said lowly. "If you want to have your Halloween, you have your fun. But don't try to involve me. I can't be bribed."

He limped back over to Belle, leaving Red standing off to the side, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She noticed Henry and Emma looking up at her from their booth nearby. Without asking, she slid in next to Henry, leaned back, and pouted.

"Sure, Ruby, you can sit with us," Emma said sarcastically, but it was clear she didn't really mind.

"I swear, this is just like _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_," Red complained. "Mr. Gold's heart is clearly two sizes too small." She paused, then banged her fist on the table. "Seriously, how could anyone hate such a fun holiday?"

Emma shrugged. "It's Mr. Gold," she said simply. "He hates everything."

"Except Belle," Henry amended. "And dogs. Remember?" Emma nodded.

"It's just a fact of life," she said.

Red pursed her lips and looked over at Belle and Rumplestiltskin sitting at the counter. She turned back to Emma.

"You don't think it's possible to get Mr. Gold to lighten up?" she asked.

"Not a chance," Emma replied. "Not about something like this. In order to convince him of anything, you'd have to go through Belle, and you'd have to do it without him knowing."

Red leapt to her feet. "Which is something I can totally do!" she exclaimed, inspired.

"Whoa, I didn't say—" Emma began, but Red cut her off.

"Twenty bucks," she said, pointing aggressively at Emma. "Twenty bucks says Gold comes to the Halloween party."

Emma shook her head. "You're crazy," she said, "But fine. Twenty bucks. Sure. I could take Henry to a movie with twenty bucks."

Red grinned and walked away, saying in a singsong voice, "Twenty bucks you aren't going to ge-et!" Emma rolled her eyes and returned to her conversation with Henry.

XXX

_**19 October**_

XXX

"I'm going to the diner," Belle said when she woke Rumplestiltskin Sunday morning with a kiss. He blinked his eyes open and frowned.

"I can make breakfast," he offered.

"It's not that." Belle threw on a cardigan over her favorite blue dress, with the polka dots. "I offered to help Red with the Halloween decorations."

Rumplestiltskin rolled over and groaned into his pillow. Belle ignored him. "I've never really tried anything artsy," she said, with a shrug and a smile. "It should be fun." Her purse was hanging on the doorknob; she grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder. "So you're off the hook this morning. You can sleep in. Just don't stay in bed all day."

"I won't," Rumplestiltskin said, already sounding as though he was halfway back to sleep. Belle rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"I'll believe it when I see it."

XXX

Upon arriving at the diner, Belle found Red sitting at the counter, surrounded by cardboard boxes filled with decorations. Belle's eyebrows shot up.

"This is all for the diner?" she asked.

"We have to decorate here _and_ the bed and breakfast. That's twice the decorations," Red explained.

"Well that makes more sense," Belle said. She went up to one of the boxes and rifled through its contents. "What's all this, then?" She held up a wad of cottony stuff tangled around her fingers.

"Oh, we stretch that out and hang it like spider webs." Red reached into another box, rooting around for something. "We even have these big plastic spiders to hang in them… Here they are!" She held up a big black spider the size of her hand, obviously fake, and tossed it at Belle, who barely managed to catch it. "We've got these three boxes for the diner," Red continued, "And these three for the bed and breakfast."

"Where do we start?" Belle asked, trying to extricate her hands from the fake spider webs.

"I finished the last of the jack-o-lanterns yesterday, so if you want we could set those up with a bunch of this green… leafy stuff." Red held up a fistful of fake ivy. Belle nodded.

"Alright." She and Red each took two of the pumpkins and several strands of plastic ivy. "You'll have to tell me how to do everything, since I've never done this before," Belle said. Red nodded.

"That was the plan."

XXX

By the time the girls were done, the conjoining buildings of the diner and the bed and breakfast had taken on a spooky Halloween air. There were jack-o-lanterns on the counter that Red would light once the dinner shift started, ghosts and spider webs hanging from the ceiling, paper taped over the lights to make everything dimmer, and an old stereo in the diner playing a mix tape of Halloween songs.

"This place looks great," Red remarked, hanging up letters in the front window that spelled out "_Happy Halloween_." "I'm so glad I had you to help this year; everything went by so much faster."

"I don't know what Halloween is supposed to look like," Belle admitted, "But something tells me this is it." Red laughed.

"It is!" she exclaimed. "And hey, I offered to watch Henry tomorrow and we'll probably watch some Halloween movies or something, so you could join us then too. So we can get you in the Halloween spirit even more!"

"Why does Emma need you to watch Henry?" Belle asked curiously. That boy had more family to look after him than was probably healthy for an almost-teenager.

Red shrugged. "Regina has some Mayor thing, David and Mary Margaret are going out, and Emma has to work. So that leaves me. Anyway, he's coming over at six. Sound like something you'd be interested in? I know Henry would love it; I can never talk to him about the stuff he likes, books and all that, and _you_ can!"

"Okay, I might come if I can close the library early," Belle said neutrally.

"And speaking of Halloween," Red said, "_You_ need a costume."

"I don't even know if I'm going to the party, Red," Belle reminded her, but Red dismissed that little detail.

"Come on, come take a look in my closet, see if there's anything you like," she said. "I've got some pretty crazy stuff in there from the eighties." She waggled her eyebrows and led her through the diner and the bed and breakfast to her bedroom, throwing open her closet grandly.

"See anything you like, you can just… take it for yourself, I guess," Red said with a shrug. "I have more clothes than I know what to do with."

Belle laughed, looking at the overflowing closet. "Wow, you really do," she said.

She sorted through the closet for about a half an hour, picking out pieces only to find that Red too tall and skinny for them to share clothes. They ended up laughing about it, pouring glasses of wine, and talking in Red's room for another half hour.

It wasn't long before Granny's voice was calling up to them, and their conversation immediately ceased. "Girls!"

"Yes Granny?" Red yelled down. She and Belle emerged from the bathroom, shutting off the lights behind them.

"Mr. Gold is here; should I tell him you all are busy and he can come back later?" Granny asked. Red and Belle exchanged a glance, and Belle shook her head.

"We'll be right down!" Red shouted, and she and Belle wound their way through the bed and breakfast to the diner, where Rumplestiltskin waited by the door.

"Have a nice day?" he asked Belle when she approached, and Red swore she saw another one of his pull-Belle-in-with-magic stunts, and this time she couldn't ignore it.

"Yes, it was a lot of fun," Belle was saying, giving Rumplestiltskin a kiss on the cheek, when Red grabbed her wrist and pulled her away.

"Belle, a word?" she said. Belle nodded, still grinning ear to ear.

"Yes?" Belle said.

"What was that?" Red asked, jerking her head toward Rumplestiltskin.

"What was what?" Belle asked innocently. Red gave her a look.

"That _magic_ I just saw?" she said. "I saw it the other day too; are you really okay with this?"

"Oh, it's all in good fun," Belle said dismissively. "We, uh, talked it out after… a lot of really complicated things happen, and I realized it wasn't so much the magic I hated, it was the power."

"So you just changed your mind, just like that?" Red hardly thought that was the case.

"It helped that I didn't feel like sorting the books in the library and magic just makes things so much easier." Belle shrugged a little sheepishly. Red nodded.

"That sounds more likely. Just… don't get carried away."

"Oh, please, there's nothing to worry about." Belle's grin returned. "I'll try to make it tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, if you can." Red looked out the window and frowned. "Is it getting dark already? What time is it?" She looked around for the clock, but Rumplestiltskin beat her to it, checking the time on his phone.

"Nearly five," he said.

"Crap, I have to light the jack-o-lanterns." She turned around and pursed her lips, looking for Granny, who had disappeared briefly. "Where do we keep the matches?" Red muttered to herself. "I can't remember…"

"That's no trouble," Belle said brightly. "Rum can just…" She turned to Rumplestiltskin with a vague gesture of her hand. "Would you?"

Rumplestiltskin quirked a smile and mimicked Belle's hand-waving, and the candles inside the little orange pumpkin heads flickered aflame, casting a wavering orange glow across the counter. Red bit her lip but didn't say anything. This whole magic thing made her uncomfortable, but it was Belle and Rumplestiltskin's business, and besides, she was a little biased. Her own experiences with magic (well, curses) weren't exactly happy ones.

Still, Red resolved to keep an eye out.


End file.
